


This Looks Like a Job for Spider-Man (Literally)

by Malcontent_Ash



Category: Iron Man (Comic), Marvel, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malcontent_Ash/pseuds/Malcontent_Ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy for young college graduate Peter Parker to find employment, especially when he keeps disappearing as Spider-man.  What happens when Tony Stark offers him a job he just can't refuse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                “Parker, I don’t care if the great lord himself is the reason you’re behind on your rent.  What I’ve gotten from you are nine months of promises and excuses when I need nine months of cash.  Property in New York is expensive and I need your rent money to pay mine!  You’ve got three days to move your stuff.”  The mousy brunette ran up the stairs of the grimy apartment building after his equally grimy landlord. 

                “Please, you can’t do this.  I’ll get you the money as soon as I can, but without this I have nowhere to stay!”  Big brown puppy dog eyes pleaded up at the scowling old woman.  Her tan skin was wrinkled from years of smoking and the tired folds between her drawn brows showed no sympathy. 

                “You’re out, Parker.  Frankly, you’re lucky I’m not suing your ass.”  The heavy set woman turned on a swollen ankle and continued up the filthy stairs, ignoring a whimper of protest from the supposedly adult man behind her.  The yellowish glow in the hallway flickered as the old lighting system buzzed in familiar protest.  It only went to further remind Peter that he was begging to keep his six by eight foot apartment in this hellhole and failing. 

                Peter was heavy-footed as he dragged himself up the rest of the stairs.  He could feel the three day deadline like a noose tightening around his neck as he tried to come up with a plan.  Unfortunately, Peter had exhausted most of the job opportunities within walking distance and he had sold his bike two weeks ago to a homeless guy so that he could afford something to eat.  No one decent would hire someone who disappeared for hours on end with no explanation and Peter had already been fired by just about every minimum-wage employer in New York.  Being Spider-man was quite possibly the most frustrating thing the brunette could think of as he wrestled with the jerry-rigged lock on his apartment.  He was hungry, he was tired, his entire body hurt from fighting another no name asshole in spandex who got his hands on a photon blaster, and tomorrow he was about to start the whole process all over again. 

                Before the first light could find its way into Peter’s window, the alarm on his watch was beeping angrily, startling him awake.  When the adrenaline and terror finally started to ease from his system, he groaned miserably.  Dawn of the first day…  Somehow he had to scrape it together and beg his way into another apartment without a credit score or recommendation.  He had briefly considered staying with the Fantastic Four, but being homeless seemed more upstanding than freeloading on some of the hardest working people he knew.  He could see the headlines now: **SPIDER-MAN FOUND SLEEPING IN A DUMPSTER**.  Jameson would do just about anything to get a picture that degrading. 

                The rusted handle turned with a creak as Peter prepared for his morning “shower.”  He’d been doing his best keeping clean, but a sink does not a shower make, no matter how hard you try.  He scrubbed his face and underarms with soap and water and crouched in a way that required super-spider flexibility to wash his hair.  This may quite possibly be the lowest he’s ever been, but that means the only direction he could travel was up, right?  With the old Parker luck kicked into overdrive, Peter tugged on his tired old converse and headed down to the Daily Bugle to see if they needed any photography done.

                “Hey Marian,” Peter smiled sheepishly at the attractive red-head.  She smiled back politely before leaning forward, her breasts gently setting on the table (not that Peter noticed or anything) as she gave him a status report.   

                “If I were you, I’d get in there before his wife calls up again.  Mrs. Jameson’s been pretty insistent about him taking this Friday off,” She conferred conspiratorially.  He nodded gravely and after tugging his collared shirt as straight as he could, he knocked.

                “Go away,” Jonah hollered disinterestedly.  Thrown for a bit of a loop, Peter stared at the door awkwardly for a moment before knocking again. 

                “Damnit,” the old man yelled through the door.  “What the hell do you want?”  It was the closest Peter was ever going to get to an invitation from the man so he let himself in. 

                “Mr. Jameson,” Peter started.

                “Oh, Peter.  It’s you…  What the hell do you want?” he asked again. 

                “I’ve been really short on money lately and I’m about to lose my apartment.  You don’t have any work I could be doing or…?”

                “Of course I do, Parker,” Jonah said almost amicably despite not looking up from the paper under his nose.  “You’re a freelancer.  You want to make some money?  Get me some shots I can work with!”  His temper flared wildly as he looked into the cold blue eyes of his “employer.” 

                “But sir,” he started through clenched teeth, “I’ve brought you pictures of the last five guys Spider-man dragged in.  You wouldn’t take any of them!”  It had been difficult to get action shots of the wannabe supervillains and even more difficult to scrape together the cash for the film. 

                “Of course not!  How am I supposed to sell pictures of these no names when the other papers have pictures of Spider-man?!  Get me a good shot of him beating in one of those poor sap’s faces and then we’ll talk.”  Jonah straightened his reading glasses on the end of his nose before unceremoniously shooing Peter from the room with a wave. 

                So all Peter had to do was get pictures of himself beating the daylights out of some criminal.  Tempting, except for the whole power and responsibility deal…  Oh, God was he screwed. 

 

 

                Considering the fact that the previous day had been, generously put, another failure in a long line of employment opportunities for Peter Parker, he decided that today he would take the day to himself.  Or that’s what he’d like to have said, but he was getting really short on time and options.  That morning, instead of dressing in his civilian clothing, he pulled on his costume and slipped out the window and into the New York skyline. 

                Scraping together enough money to fund his basic needs here in the big apple was a constant struggle for the poor superhero.  Maybe in the suburbs or the country he could make enough to pay his rent, somewhere the milk didn’t cost at least a dollar more than the national average and it was assumed that an apartment would come with facilities, but honestly, he never spent a moment thinking about living anywhere else. 

                Sure, the city was dirty… filthy really and ripe with crime and poverty, but there was a damn good reason people flocked here.  Some people came to New York for the excitement, some for the convenience of not having to drive into the city for work, but for Peter, there wasn’t anywhere else.  New York was his home.  He spent the first fourteen years of his life amazed by the endless sights of the city, and that was before he ever left the ground. 

                With a satisfying spit, the first line of webbing shot from his wrist and he swung away from his crummy apartment and the rest of his problems.  It was after noon before he even considered stopping and standing on the ground.  He climbed down the side of an old brick apartment building, his head facing the ground as he moved at an inhuman speed.  Before he was ten feet above the ground, he kicked off from the wall, flipping himself over and landing in front of a relatively unimpressed hotdog man. 

                “Taah Dahh!”  He bragged playfully and the older gentleman merely rolled his eyes. 

                “Spider-man,” he acknowledged with an untamed grey eyebrow raised.  A young woman and her son who had been walking in their direction suddenly turned as the mother dragged her fascinated son away as quickly as she could.  The old man grinned slightly at the woman dragging her young son.  “I’m starting to think you’re bad for business…”  Spider-man gasped in mock surprise. 

                “With all the hotdogs I buy from you?  I’m sure I’ve more than made up for all the business you’ve lost.”  He eyed a perfectly heated bun and tried to not to drool at the doughy scent.  The man just grumbled slightly to himself in response as he grabbed his tongs and started sorting through the freshly cooked dogs.  His knobby hands only shook slightly as he pulled the best looking dog from the heater and eased it into a freshly toasted bun.  Without even asking he added two perfect wavy lines of mustard and one of ketchup and handed it to the masked vigilante.  By the time Peter eased his mask half-way up his face, he was grinning with anticipation.  He took a big bite before shifting the meal into his other hand and digging into a small pocket in his suit for payment.  Before he could nimbly gather the correct change with his gloved fingers however, two shots rang out in the distance, followed by the wail of police cars.

                “This one’s on me,” the old man said, turning toward where Spider-man had been standing.  The young man was nowhere to be found but on the edge of his cart sat a small pile of change.  _Damn, that kid_ , the man thought with a smile.  _Go get ‘em, Spidey._

                Webslinging with one hand was significantly more difficult than webslinging with two, but add a hotdog into the mix and things start to get brutal.  Luckily for Peter, the shots sounded like they were coming from not too far away.  About six blocks and a painful two bites later, Peter was jumping down from a fire escape and into the fray. 

                Almost completely prepared for action, Peter landed in front of two armed men who appeared to be fleeing the scene of a crime.  The taller of the two men was lanky and pale, and he had a tattoo on his shoulder and gauged ears.  The shorter man looked stronger, and from the look in his eyes, significantly less stable.  The noise from the balls of Peter’s feet hitting the ground in front of him startled the short man and he raised the gun threateningly prepared for a fight. 

                “Woah, hey there guys,” Peter raised his hands slightly to show he meant no harm… for the moment.  “Is it just me, or does every bad guy in New York these days have a gun?”  He walked toward the men slowly and the smaller man shook the gun threateningly in response.  “Here, lemmie get those for you,” he responded, using both hands to attach webbing to the weapons before ripping them out of the men’s hands. 

                The taller man looked to the smaller man as if to ask, _what now?_ Rather than attempting to flee the scene, a glint of metal slipped out of his coat pocket as he lunged for Spider-man.  The tip barely grazed the bright red fabric before Peter twisted out of the way like a cat righting itself midair.  With an open fist, he jarred the weapon from the man’s chubby fingers and deflected an awkward punch from his accomplice.  Dealing with the more significant threat first, Spider-man gripped a stalky wrist tightly and threw the man against the wall, six feet in the air, and attached him with a heavy coating of webbing.  He was about to do the same with the taller man as police cars blocked off one side of the alley.  _Oh, crap._ The doors were opened with military precision, weapons at the ready as Spider-man attached a long line of web up to the top of the taller of the two buildings cradling the narrow alley. 

                “FREEZE!”  Six pistols and a shotgun focused on the young vigilante as the now forgotten criminal did his best to sneak out of their line of sight.

                “Is it just me or does _everyone_ in New York have a gun these days?”  He said with an exasperated sigh, hoping to distract the less focused of the officers as he pull the line taut.  “Did I miss some kind of memo?” With a final tug he released the flexible line, throwing himself in the air.  He landed on the top of the building at a run, scanning for his next move. 

                He could hear the officers shouting orders down on the ground as he jumped from the fire escape onto the next building.  Generally, his best option was up, considering his increased mobility and the police’s lack thereof, but he had run into the criminals in a more residential area.  The apartment buildings were a handful of stories at best, so he’d have to find somewhere to hide and fast.  He stuck another web to the corner of the tallest building nearby, taking this chance to glace back before ducking over the edge.  Rather than staying up high where the police would be looking for him, he slipped down the side of the building where he was no longer visible and into the street.  Some of the officers had managed to get back into their cars and he could hear the sirens approaching quickly.  Acting mostly on instinct, he grabbed the lid of a nearby dumpster and slipped inside, closing himself inside just as a police car drove past. 

                As the sirens died down and his body started to relax, he finally had the chance to fully take in his surroundings.  First of all, he was in fact in a dumpster.  The rubber heel of his boot slipped against what might have once been Chao Mein.  He breathed in deeply, and instantly regretted it.  _Oh, dear lord._ With a gag he threw open the lid and jumped out.  The brown slime from inside the dumpster discolored the fabric over one of his hands and his knees.  He couldn’t help but picture himself behind bars, Jameson smirking at him from the other side, and wonder whether or not his escape had really been worth it. 

                Half of the problems in his life could be tied back to that smug toothbrush-headed psychopath.  Despite the time and effort he put into his photography, Jameson paid him pennies on the dollar, devoting the saving to his personal vendetta against Spider-man. And due to Jameson’s damn-near slanderous articles, Spider-man had become public enemy number one.  It didn’t matter how many times he saved New York from Norman’s latest manic episode, or sat in with the Fantastic Four in saving the multiverse, so long as he wore a mask, Jameson was going to do everything in his power to take Spider-man down.  He wasn’t even welcome at Avenger’s PR events anymore (not that he had the free time to be shaking hands and kissing babies).  It was tough to imagine Hawkeye or even Ant-man going dumpster diving just to avoid getting cuffed… _again_.  God forbid this kind of stuff ever happen to the big names…

                He grumbled to himself as he started webbing his way back home.  It was already six and the rush hour traffic was starting to clear.  Maybe things weren’t all that bad.  He still had another day to find an apartment, and considering his luck these last couple days, karma was really starting to owe him a big one.  He thought about the For Rent sign he had seen chasing after the armed men and considered stopping in on his way back.  Things are never quite as bad as we imagine them to be, right? 

                The faint beeping of his Avenger’s receiver caught his ear.  He climbed up onto a nearby balcony and pulled up his sleeve to check the watch-like apparatus.  Pressing a small button on the side, he opened the line and responded to the call.

                “Please tell me you’re calling because you finally decided to start handing out superhero paychecks…”  The voice on the other line merely coughed awkwardly.  It was Wasp.

                “No such luck, Spidey.”  Peter sighed.

                “Alright, what’s the job?” 

                “We’re a little short on back-up right now.  Cap’s helping Hawkeye and Widow with S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff and Ant-man’s still on a research trip to Peru.  I sent Iron Man to scope out a strange energy signal we picked up in Brooklyn and I haven’t heard from him in a couple hours.”

                “I’m checking up on Iron Man?  Doesn’t he hate that?”

                “You’ve always been a charmer, Spidey.  I’m sure you can get him to let it slide.”  _Then why do I feel like cannon fodder?_

                “Alright, but if I get blasted by so much as one energy beam, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” 

                “You better get Matt-freakin’-Murdock… Tony’s already got the top lawyers in New York on the payroll.”  Spider-man sighed before disconnecting his receiver. 

                “How is this my life?”  Peter started the long run down to Brooklyn while grumbling to himself.  _It’s certainly not for the paycheck…_ Rent would have to be tomorrow’s problem.  For now, he had to find Iron Man. 

                It wasn’t uncommon for Iron Man to remove himself from the Avenger’s grid, but it was uncommon for large warehouses in the middle of Brooklyn to be billowing smoke.  Spider-man landed on the roof and crawled into an upstairs window.  He clung to the ceiling unnoticed while he tried to figure out what was going on.  At the moment, five Hydra agents were firing a barrage of lasers at what appeared to be a rather distressed Iron Man while one attempted to flee with a large hunk of tech.  Using their surprise to his full advantage, Spider-man pulled the machinery from the goon’s hands with a long line of webbing.  He webbed it to the ceiling before climbing down one of the walls and joining in the fight. 

                “Why are you here?”  Tony probed the young hero before raising a force field with his left hand and hitting a goon with an energy beam from the other.  Meanwhile, Spider-man stepped backwards until he was back to back with Iron Man. 

                “Just your friendly neighborhood reminder that you turned your cell phone off,” Spider-man responded, sounding about as excited to be there as he felt.  His proportionate strength of a spider sent an unfortunate agent flying backward, hitting the ground moments later with an undignified whimper. 

                “Cell phone…  That’s cute.  You can tell Wasp that I’m a little busy at the moment.”  Three more agents came running into the warehouse in response to their teammate’s distress call.  Iron Man stalled them by collapsing part of the ceiling in front of them.  

                “I would, but thanks to you, I’m a little busy at the moment.”  With a fluid motion, a web flew from each of his wrists, finding their mark on two approaching Hydra agent’s helmets.  A powerful tug sent them colliding face-first in the air before landing in a painful heap.  The final three agents stood at a distance, hoping to find an advantage in long-range combat.  Their prayers would go unanswered as Iron Man fired an electric pulse at the remaining combatants, leaving them twitching on the ground as he casually pressed a couple buttons on his gauntlet.  Spider-man rolled his eyes under his mask, despite his extreme pleasure at the scientific complexity of such a device. 

                “Show off,” he quipped before turning to face the older hero.  “Hydra in Brooklyn?  Really?”

                “They were after the…  Where did the generator go?”  Tony scanned the room. 

                “I may have webbed it to the ceiling…”  Spider-man jumped up onto the walls to retrieve the device. 

                “Of course you did,” Peter could practically hear Tony’s blood pressure rise a little.  “The latest in Stark technology, a prototype Hydra went to great lengths to steal and you’ve covered its delicate machinery in high tensile strength goo.”  Spider-man hopped down from the ceiling, device in hand. 

                “Hardly.  I attached it using the fan covering and the heatsink.  Besides, my high tensile strength goo dissolves in three hours or so.  It might take a while, but try to unknot your metal panties.”  Spider-man tossed the device into Tony’s waiting hands.  He received it with a cautious gentleness.  After confirming the state of the generator, Tony looked suspiciously at the young hero. 

                “This is nothing like any of the generators on the market.  Tell me, what is this?” he asked, pointing a metal finger at a small component. 

                “It’s the latest Stark ion source.  Due to its exponentially increased capacity from the traditional model you needed the fan and the heatsink in the first place,” he replied casually, digging out his Avengers communicator.  “Hey Wasp?  I—“  Metal fingers curled around the device, effectively shutting it off.  “Hey!”  Peter replied with a childlike petulance.  Tony’s helmet opened, revealing an intrigued if not slightly manic expression.

                “How do you know about that?  I haven’t revealed the new ion source to anyone, except…”

                “Reed Richards?  Yeah.  We were in a bit of a situation so we used a similar model to power an inter-dimensional wormhole.  Now can you turn that back on so Wasp doesn’t send someone after me too?”  Peter reached out for the device expecting Tony to resist, but the device was offered freely. 

                “Interesting… I hadn’t even considered that sort of application…”  Peter merely nodded as he powered his transponder. 

                “Hey Wasp, it’s me.  Everything’s fine.” 

                “Thank God.  I wasn’t sure who I was going to send if you were both missing…”  Tony surveyed the young male as he place his free hand on his hip. 

                “Seeing as you’d already scraped the bottom of the proverbial barrel…”  The tone was relatively light, but the twinge of real hurt was obvious. 

                “No, that’s not what I—“

                “It’s okay Wasp.  I get it.  I’m not sure if I want anything to do with me, considering the kind of press I get.  I’ll send Iron Man back your way.”  Wasp’s voice caught for a moment as she started to say something and then stopped. 

                “Thanks Spidey.”

                “No problem.”  Spider-man ended the call.  Doing his best to ignore Iron Man’s stare, he slipped out a web cartridge, checking its contents.  _Not good._ The other cartridge bore similar results.  He could probably make it a couple blocks before he ran out, and he didn’t think he could get away with hoofing it.  He’d get a block, maybe two before the police were informed about his whereabouts.  Any other day he’d have a spare change of clothes, but he hadn’t intended to go on patrol, especially this far from his apartment. 

                “Can I help you?” he asked, temper flaring.  The iron man shifted slightly, before taking a step back. 

                “Relax, bug boy.  I was just curious about the gear.  I always kinda figured you made those things… au natural, if you get my drift.” 

                “The gear’s a little low on ‘au natural’ at the moment,” Peter huffed. 

                “No need to get upset.  I just figured Reed’s kid might have something spiffy,” Tony headed back to work, gathering the unconscious agents before contacting S.H.I.E.L.D. 

                “You’re right.  Sorry.  Things have been a little rough lately and I think I spent my ride home getting here.”  Peter took the moment to sit on one of the larger hunks of concrete from the ceiling.  He hadn’t had the time to relax since he left his apartment that morning and he was running on little more than the hotdog he’d managed to choke down. 

                “I can give you a ride home.  Fury’s going to want a debriefing, and I’m going to want to seem too busy to give it to him.”  Spider-man chuckled at the confession.  The sound was muffle slightly by his cloth mask, but it was a sweet sound.  Iron Man couldn’t help but smile, secretly grateful that the boy couldn’t see it. 

                “The Avengers consorting with vigilantes?” he probed, the hurt from earlier all but gone from his voice.

                “I’ve consorted with worse…” Tony teased, his voice dripping with sexual deviancy.  Spider-man laughed uncomfortably.

                “I’m sure you have.  You don’t happen to have an Iron Man-mobile, or some high tech vehicle with a catchier name, do you?”  Tony’s helmet merely tilted downward as he studied his suit. 

                “I _am_ an Iron Man-mobile.”  _Riiight._

 

 

                Peter was seriously wondering whether or not he chose correctly in accepting a ride from the older hero.  Sure, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to another tangle with the New York police department, but this… this was undignified. 

                Long, thin legs dangled over a metal arm as Peter tried to shift himself into a more respectable position.  His arm was wrapped around a cool metal shoulder as Iron Man carried him in the safest way possible.  He wiggled in the tight grip cradled between Iron Man’s arms.  _I hate you so much right now…_

                “I can’t help but notice that you smell like the inside of a dumpster…” 

                “Wow… that really means something coming from a guy with no nose.  Sorry, I’m no longer allowed in the Laundromat.” 

                “I tried the nose thing.  Didn’t work out.  But a Laundromat?  Shouldn’t you be living with your mom or something?”  Spider-man bit back a groan. 

                “I’m a little too old for that,” _even if it’s hard to tell from my girlish figure…_ “I’d make a crack at your lifestyle, but it’s a little difficult considering your suit costs more money than I’ll spend in a lifetime while mine is hand-sewn and quite frankly smells like the inside of dumpster.  Specifically the one in the alley behind Fourth Street.”  Iron Man didn’t reply to that.  Instead they rode for a while in silence as he thought. 

                “You’re not homeless, are you?”  Tony felt a little embarrassed by the question, but considering the way the boy smelled and the fact that he was currently flying him toward the aforementioned dumpster, it seemed like a reasonable conclusion. 

                “Today?  No.  Ask me again tomorrow,” Peter crossed his arms, discomfort showing despite his masked features.  “Speaking of which, just drop me off somewhere around here.  I should have plenty to get home.”   Hundreds of people lived around here, and Peter refused to give up the final scraps of the ‘secret’ in secret identity.  Iron Man said nothing, hovering slowly onto the roof of a small grocery store.  He watched as the small, muscular frame gracefully climbed out of his grip.  He was about to take off again before something stopped him.  This young man could hold his own against Reed Richards and he was going to be living on the streets. 

                “Hey,” he caught the young man’s attention, waiting for him to turn to him before continuing.  “I could use minds like yours.  I can guarantee a significant pay increase… come work for me.”  Peter could feel the gears in his brain stop turning while he replayed the conversation in his head.  Work for Stark?  Work with Stark tech? 

                Tony, mistaking Peter’s silence for reluctance, attempted to sweeten the deal.  “I’ve got a place where you can stay in the tower until you get back on your feet.  At least consider my offer.  Tomorrow, 10am.  You can even wear the mask.”  Peter could do nothing but stare in shocked silence as Tony headed off to deal with an irate Nick Fury.  (Sorry, that was a little redundant, wasn’t it?) 

                He just got an offer to work with one of the biggest names in the scientific industry, not as Peter Parker, but as Spider-man.  He could voluntarily move out of his hellhole of an apartment, instead of being kicked out. 

                At precisely 10am the following morning, Spider-man stood in front of Stark Industries with everything he owned in a heavy duffel bag under his arm. 


	2. Chapter 2

                Curious pedestrians watched the young man with either fear or disdain as he stared up at the flashy skyscraper.  Stark was many, many things but modest was not one of them.  It was with more than a slight case of the jitters that the vigilante shifted the heavy bag up further onto his shoulder and pushed open one of the large glass doors.  He couldn’t help but whistle lowly in awe of the sleek, _expensive_ , interior design.  The white marble floor sparkled with a fresh coat of polish under his feet and calling the ceiling high would be like calling Osborne a _little_ peculiar (short on ‘very’ and some colorful swear words).  The entire front of the building was glass allowing the natural sunlight to softly yellow the unnatural white light giving the place a healthy glow.  Compared to Marco’s Pizzaria and dealing with Jameson anywhere, this place looked like heaven. 

                Peter, ironically enough, felt a little underdressed for the occasion as he scuffed the soft, rubber heels of his boots on the entranceway.  Feeling more than a little vulnerable, he pulled his duffel bag close and approached the front desk.  The woman behind the desk had her greying hair pulled up into a tight bun without a single stray strand.  She ignored the young vigilante shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in front of her desk until he cleared his throat pointedly. 

                “Uh… hey.  I’m Spider-Man,” his train of thought died in his throat at her deadpan expression.  “B-But you already knew that.  I’m here for a job…”  The woman allowed the awkward silence to drag on a little longer than socially accepted and Peter had the sinking feeling that he might have imagined the entire conversation. 

                “ _Spider_ -Man,” she said, without a hint of sarcasm (note the sarcasm), “Here’s your identification.  Generally Stark Industries requires that employees have their photograph on the card, but… I figure, why waste the time?”  It was difficult to tell whether she was angry with him in particular or just an angry kind of person because she immediately turned back to her work. 

                “Heh…”  Peter laughed uncomfortably and for the first time in a long time he couldn’t think of a witty retort.  He had faced off with Dr. Doom and managed to have a go of it, (though Doom brought it on himself with all the ‘doom’ puns) but this woman… this woman knew how to make a spider wet his skivvies.  Steely grey eyes studied him from over her reading glasses for just a moment as he clipped the identification card to his costume. 

                “Take the elevator up to the twenty-third floor.  Someone will be waiting for you.”  With that thought completed, Peter Parker ceased to exist to the bitter old woman and he walked a little more quickly than necessary to the elevator behind her desk.  Peter pressed the glowing round button for the twenty-third floor and began his ascent.  It was difficult to imagine Tony Stark asking that woman for his appointment schedule, although that would have explained her questionable attitude.  Even before Tony ever came forward as Iron Man, he was known for his arrogance and womanizing.  He was a brilliant man with a high speed intellect who struggled with anyone who couldn’t keep up with him both in wit and charisma. 

                By the time the elevators opened on the twenty-third floor, Tony Stark was there, coffee in hand to greet the vigilante with a slightly mischievous smirk.  Peter could help but shift the bag on his shoulder awkwardly, feeling horribly ridiculous in full body spandex while _the_ Tony Stark eyed him with amusement. 

                “I was wondering if you’d wear the suit…”  He said, turning and motioning gently for Peter to follow.  His shorter legs stepped quickly to match Tony’s pace.

                “I thought the mask might clash with business casual…”  Tony saw Peter’s expression shift slightly under the mask to a depreciating grin.  “Plus, I’m not sure my business suit smells any better than this one.”  Tony’s face twisted microscopically with disgust before he caught himself and carefully righted his expression. 

                “Am I to assume then that you haven’t…?” 

                “Uh no…  I kinda figured I could…?”  The moment was almost awkward as Tony slowed to a stop. 

                “You came to your first day working as an executive in R&D not only dressed in fetish gear, but smelling even worse than when I offered you the position?”  His mouth was fixed into a perfectly unreadable straight line as he watched the young adult fumble for an appropriate answer. 

                “Well, I—“

                “I’m just screwing with you.  I’ll show you where you can stay, assuming you intend to, and I’ll get someone to clean the suit.”  Tony led Peter back into the elevator and they headed up another hundred floors.  Tony spent the trip sharing information about the building’s layout and the basics of what he had been working on. 

                “You seriously live here??”  Peter asked, amazed that the man would live anywhere near the office considering the fact that he could afford to live anywhere in the world and commute via private jet.  Tony only shrugged, remembering Pepper’s half-hearted protests about creating his living space in the top five floors. 

                “Sometimes.  Sometimes I live in Malibu, Hong Kong, Cancun…”  He continued leading Peter, clearly uninterested in the direction the conversation was taking.  “So much for separating work and pleasure, right?”  Peter paused at the question, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable. 

                “Uh... right.”  They entered a spacious living space on the 124th floor.  The entranceway alone was larger than the apartment Peter had been kicked out of this morning, and he gaped in wonder at the ceiling to floor bay windows in the sitting room.  He’d seen this kind of view many times while he was web slinging, but having it so casually a part of where he would be living?  He turned around when he heard glass clink behind him.  Tony looked at him sheepishly as he pulled a tumbler from the dark wood liquor cabinet, filling it with tonic, (and attempting to sneak in a shot of gin, but failing). 

                “I’ll have you know it’s happy hour somewhere…  Dubai, maybe.  How’s the view?”  He stood next to Peter, studying the skyscrapers cutting across the skyline until the horizon faded into the harbor.  The sharp scent of alcohol bit at his delicate senses and he felt a little nervous about the entire situation. 

                “Pretty impressive for a living room,” he smiled amicably, though the other man could only see the barest signs. 

                “How about I show you to the bathroom and you get yourself cleaned up and I’ll send someone for your suit?”  He stated, more than asked, his socked feet treading lightly on the soft, dark carpet.  Peter followed him to an equally lavish bathroom with a shower that looked as mechanically complicated as his web shooter.  It was practically a small glass _room_ with various nozzles pointing from every direction.

                “Just put the costume on the other side of the door and I’ll find something to replace it for a while,” Tony nodded slightly, closing the door behind him as he excused himself. 

                _Yeah… Sure._ He tried to shrug off the awkwardness of the entire situation and his own feelings of helplessness and impotence for not even being able to keep himself and his things clean.  He was pretty sure those things resided pretty low on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and be things he should definitely be taking care of as an adult.  Fortunately, spending a couple years in spandex had taught him a great deal of humility…  Being Spider-man had certainly come with enough embarrassing situations which would put this one to shame. 

                Sliding his hands under the worn fabric, he began rolling it off of his shoulders.  He undressed slowly, biding his time until he would have to remove his mask.  At this point he wasn’t sure if he felt more vulnerable with being naked or being without a mask… he gave an anxious glance for any cameras, well aware that he wouldn’t be able to find them even if they were there.  With a sigh, he pulled the fabric over his head, feeling cool air hit his skin and his hair bounce upward with static cling. 

                With a quick motion, he thrust the suit out the door and locked the door.  It felt a little like showering in the middle school locker room, except this time he _knew_ someone was going to take his clothes.  …Harry had never really let that one go completely…  If he hadn’t had the foresight to check on him after gym, he probably would have been stuck streaking home that night. 

                _Forget doing_ you _a service, Peter.  I did the whole city a service!  No one wants to see that…_ Yeah, thanks Harry… 

                The memory was bittersweet and his stomach twisted unhappily. 

                Finding a small touch screen on the wall with symbols which seemed to relate to showering, he carefully picked an icon.  Instantly, cold water burst from the many faucets, causing him to shout with surprise. 

                “Ack!  Stop!  Stopstopstop...” he studied the device again searching for a button when the shower turned itself off as suddenly as it had started.  Free from the icy barrage, he shivered unhappily, feeling embarrassed and irrationally angry at Tony for buying such a user-unfriendly shower.  Obviously it had some sort of voice command system. 

                “Uh…  warm water,” he tried.  “Warm water, on?”  The showerheads leered down at him waterlessly. 

                “Can I be of assistance, Mr. Spider-man?”  A male voice called out to him from somewhere inside the shower.  He sprang into action instantly, fists balled and ready for a fight. 

                “Who’s there?  Show yourself!”  No one appeared and the voice rang out beside him yet again. 

                “I am sorry for alarming you.  I am J.A.R.V.I.S.  You need not be alarmed, I am merely Tony’s user interface for his personal devices.”

                “And you’re watching me!?”  He asked, wanting to hide his face, but well aware of the futility. 

                “No.  My surveillance functions have been turned off in your quarters for the duration of your stay.  You input a request for cold water.  The icon you were looking for was the one above that one.”  Peter nodded despite the fact that the interface supposedly could not see him. 

                “And if I ask you to stop monitoring me at all?  Would you do that?” 

                “Yes.  Disabling Auditory Monitoring. . .” the room was as silent as it was before and Peter could only hope that the disembodied voice had in fact been telling the truth.  Either way, he showered quickly, oblivious to the luxury of the expensive soaps and body washes, anxious to get as far away from J.A.R.V.I.S. as he could.  Once he had showered and dried, he reached out tentatively to find clothes sitting where he had left his costume not long ago. 

                There was a pair of dark, acid-washed jeans, a Black Sabbath T-shirt, and silk boxers, all new with tag and surprisingly close to his size.  He slipped them on, feeling a little ridiculous in the semi-punk attire and extremely aware of the cool silk that rubbed up against him as he moved.  At the bottom of the pile he found a thin, soft fabric, ski mask, which he slipped over his head, just in case.  Frankly, he looked rather ridiculous and a little more fetish-y than when he had walked in.  He stepped out of the bathroom feeling cleaner than he had since he had bought his filthy apartment and showered with a sink for the first time. 

                Barring the alarming surveillance experience, Peter could definitely appreciate living in this kind of luxury.  _Don’t you dare get used to it…_ he warned himself. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On break. Sleepy. Actually writing stuff and stuff. I have so much I want to write, but what I intend to be short stories always get longer and more complicated as I write. 
> 
> Edit: I don't know what AO3 does with my tabbing. I'm not sure I want to know.

                 With a final itchy adjustment of the ski mask over his moist skin, Peter opened the door and stepped out into the main hallway where he came (quite literally) face-to-face with an absent-minded and now a little bit terrified Tony Stark. 

                “Woah!  Jesus…  I’m not used to bumping in to anyone up here,” there was a small bundle of cloth in his right hand so he rubbed the back of his neck with his left and carefully avoided eye contact.  “I forgot that you might want socks…  Normally I would have something new to give you, but all I have right now is a couple pairs I brought with me from my last trip to Hong Kong.”  Despite all of his posturing and arrogance, it clearly bothered the older man to be offering someone else his used, albeit freshly washed, Armani socks.  Reveling only slightly in the other man’s discomfort, Peter accepted the socks, sitting on the edge of the couch to slip them on. 

                The warm material slipped smoothly against his skin with none of the stickiness of cotton or polyester.  Once fully on, the heel of the sock sat somewhere around his ankle so Peter pulled it back down far enough that the heel would meet properly, ignoring the fact that the tips curled down over his toes and flopped quietly on the carpet as he walked. 

                Tony casually hid his mouth behind a curled hand but the gentle creases around his eyes gave him away.  This ridiculous ski-masked creature sitting on the arm of his twenty thousand dollar couch was… adorable.  While Tony Stark had always displayed a limited patience for women who attempted to act cutesy or childish, only now seeing the deflated ends of his socks over the young man’s feet could he see the appeal. 

                “You don’t have to wear them if—“

                “No.  They’re really soft, actually.  You may or may not be getting these socks back.”  The two men worked their way back to the elevator where Tony pressed the button and waited for the doors to close. 

                “I’ve got a question, Mr. Stark.”  Peter asked, big brown eyes meeting Tony’s. 

                “Yes, Mr. Spider-Man?” a carefully manicured eyebrow quirked upward mockingly. 

                “Who is J.A.R.V.I.S., and why is he watching me shower?”  Tony exhaled heavily through his nose, formulating a reasonable response. 

                “Not ‘who’ so much as ‘what’, or even ‘who was’ if you want to get technical…”  Peter subtly shifted his weight away from the taller man.  “Aaand, now you’re more creeped out than before.  I assure you, it’s nothing weird or dangerously dystopian,” he speaks a little more quickly, mumbling slightly, “okay, maybe a little dystopian, but he/it is the house’s AI.  Sorry I didn’t mention him…  He isn’t tracking or watching you in any way.  Think of it as a Stark Industries Operating System for only my favorite toys.”  The elevator reached its destination and Tony led Peter further. 

                “Your shower…?”

                “The entire building, actually.  All of my buildings.”  Peter’s gait loosens slightly, muscles moving fluidly as he slips back into his element. 

                “So you’ve created a _learning_ artificial intelligence, and you use it in your shower…  I hate to say it, but I’m starting to get the feeling your toys might even be as fun as Dr. Reed’s (if only _slightly_ less existentially challenging).”  The two men reached the end of a long white hallway and stood in front of a large glass door.  An alpha-numeric code sequence and a retinal scan later, they are granted access and the door opens automatically. 

                “Welcome to Stark Tower’s Research and Development Wing for the Advancements of Bioelectrical Bonding Agents, or as I like to call it, back-up garage seven.”  The white walls are lined with rows of metal shelves stacked with materials in various states of construction.  In the middle of the room sits a large, mechanized hand on a six-foot long swiveling arm with several smaller appendages with simpler, more specialized functions.  With a wave of one of Tony’s hands a holographic projection of a three-dimensional technical model appears in an arc around him.  He motions for the screen to move over to where Spider-Man can easily study it.  As the graphic rotates to show the design from every angle, it deconstructs itself, allowing Peter to easily reverse engineer its function.  He whistles lowly. 

                “That’s… ambitious, to say the least.  Do you think the ion source generator could power propulsion of this magnitude without, y’know, blowing up?”  Tony glanced toward Peter, completely unprepared for the unbridled excitement he found there.  The boy couldn’t be over twenty-one, and yet his dark eyes glimmered with anticipation for Tony’s thoughts on the capacity of the generator in regards to force field technologies. 

                “Ah, well… no.  Not yet, anyway.  I figured it would be a good starter project.  What it needs is—“

                "Some kind of shock absorption which would not only be resistant to high temperatures, but would also help maintain the structural stability of the chassis.”  Tony could practically hear the gears spinning in the young man’s head.  “What you need is a whole like my ‘high tensile strength goo’…” 

 _Ohh, smart and knows how to hold a grudge,_ Tony thought.  _This one’s a keeper._ Peter was already scanning the room.

                “Do you mind if I?” he inquired, surprisingly polite when he wasn’t being a total smartass. 

                “That’s what you’re here for.” 

                Tony had intended to step out once Peter got started, but he quickly got caught up in the younger man’s excitement.  He missed a stockholder’s meeting and a dinner date with Playboy calendar’s Miss November, but it hardly seemed to matter as he watched Peter apply his sharp mind and Spider-enhanced precision to the first working prototype.  Someone had to be sent for coffee and pizza during the night, but by morning he and Peter were debating solutions to what appeared to be the next major setback.

                “We don’t need to reinvent the wheel here, Tony.  If we adjust the outer frame we can safely control the same level of propulsion without having to move the coolant line.”

                “It’s bulky enough as it is.  If we want to create a practical force field above all else it needs to be portable.”

                “And it will be, but first we need a working model to prove what we’ve already constructed is stable.”  Tony was impatient to have the model finalized while Peter was more than happy checking the numbers a couple more times and avoiding what would potentially be a bigger setback than restructuring the frame after the fact. 

                “It’ll work once we—“  The door opened behind them and four bloodshot eyes studied their intruder.

                “I’m sure I’m not interrupting anything…” a dainty hand adjusted a leather bound planner,  “Tony… and strange masked teenage boy in highly classified R&D lab.”  Despite his frustration at yet again being mistaken for a teenager, Peter held his tongue… mostly. 

                “Hi,” he waved awkwardly.  Tony dragged a stool from the corner of the room, hunching over slightly and preparing for a conversation he clearly didn’t want to be having. 

                “Pepper Potts, meet Spider-Man.  Man of Spiders, the one and only Pepper Potts.”  Peter’s friendly, but slightly strained smile was lost behind the ski mask. 

                “ _The_ Spider-Man?  Menace to society, Daily Bugle’s Most Wanted, Spider-Man?” green eyes studied him with unconcealed disdain. 

                “Strange, masked teenage boy is fine, thanks,” Peter muttered unhelpfully, feeling the need to babble now that there was a gorgeous woman in the room. 

                “To be fair, they say all kinds of horrible things about me too,” Tony couldn’t help the shit-eating grin which creeped across his face.  Pepper could only frown more deeply in response. 

                “All of which is true, including the drop in stock prices after you failed to attend yesterday’s stockholder’s meeting.”  Tony crossed his arms, shooting a conspiratory look to his young friend. 

                “The Bugle’s already covered that?  What time is it?”  Pepper flipped the page in her planner.

                “Not to mention the calls from a rather distressed Miss Sullivan.  I’m absolutely flabbergasted these girls are still surprised when you stand them up.”  Peter did his best impression of an unassuming office fern, attempting to stay as uninvolved in this conversation as possible. 

                “Miss…”  Tony turned around, continuing to fiddle with the model, clearly done with the conversation.

                “November.”

                “That’s right.  The blonde.”  He could practically hear Pepper grinding her teeth.  Considering her dental plan, he supposed she could afford to, but it seemed like a bad habit to start.  He briefly considered mentioning this to her. 

                “One of many, _Mr. Stark._ ”  Her tone was acidic.  “If stock prices drop any lower we’ll lose the holdings in Boston which you know Oscorp will cover.”  Peter’s attention was immediately drawn back into the argument. 

                “It won’t.  Spider-Man won’t let it, right?” 

                “Uh--?”

                “All we have to do is send a couple apology letters and show a demonstration of the production possibilities of a portable force field generator and they’ll remember why they’ve chosen to work with Stark Industries.  Am I off the hook, Miss Potts?”  Despite his flippant tone, Pepper seemed slightly relieved.  The woman was extraordinary in many ways, but of her countless impressive qualities, a decent poker face was not among them. 

                “No.  You’ve got a two o’ clock with Senator Rowan and unless you’re going to show a demonstration of the military possibilities of your force field device, you’d better intend on showing up.  Take a nap, bathe, and someone will be outside to drive you by one.”  The two men watched the red head’s hips sway steadily and more naturally than they had any right to over black pumps as she left.    (Peter a little longer than Tony.)  Tony studied the young man. 

                “You’ve got drool on your chin, oh Man of Spiders.”  Satisfied with himself as much as Peter’s startled expression, he smirked as he checked his watch.  In his peripheral vision the young man readjusted his mask and cleared his throat. 

                “Are you guys…?”  Peter couldn’t meet his eyes, feeling a little uncouth for even asking. 

                “No.  Not anymore…  She’s not the kind of girl you leave waiting up for you when you’re off playing superhero.”  Peter hummed appreciatively, remembering the fierce red-head in his own life.  Tony stood, making his way to the door, more than ready to escape everything his past relationship with Pepper had brought up.  Peter shuffled uncertainly behind him. 

                “The mask won’t work forever, you know…  No matter how careful you are.  At some point, the mask and the identity have to become the same person or you’ll wind up losing both.  It won’t be today or tomorrow or even this year, but things are changing.  Maybe I’m just looking too far into this but….”  The mood had shifted quickly from melancholy to ominous and back again.  

                “Tony?”  Peter couldn’t help but feel reminded of how ridiculous he looked standing there in someone else’s clothes and a ski mask. 

                “You’re welcome to stay and work if you want.”  Peter watched silently as he left, still disturbed by his sudden mood swing. 

_It won’t be today, it won’t be tomorrow, but things are changing._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a ton to everyone who has favorited this story and left comments. I'm not 100% on this chapter, so if you have any thoughts or suggestions, I'm happy to hear them. Hope you like it!

                Despite having the opportunity to sleep more than five hours for the first time in a long time, Peter was restless.  He’d awakened at four, opening his eyes to the uncomfortable and disorienting feeling of forgetting where he was.  Silk sheets, smooth as water, were wrapped around his legs and they tickled the thin scraggle of his leg hair as he worked on untangling himself.  Despite the pristine, climate-controlled room with a king size bed and the promise of financial stability for the first time in a long time, so far, he’d managed to sleep better living in squalor. 

                Kicking the sheets off his ankles, he sat at the edge of his bed, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.  Tony had assured him repeatedly that no one would interrupt him up here, but the surreal feeling of being in alone Stark Tower left him aching for his mask.  Feeling only a little bit foolish, he shook the feeling off and headed to the bathroom.  Someone had left him a toothbrush and toothpaste, just in case he hadn’t had the foresight or resources to bring his own.  Peter briefly wondered what Tony must think about his normal level of hygiene, but he accepted the gifts regardless.  To be honest, his toothbrush was getting rather worse for wear…  He hummed slightly to himself, appreciating greatly the small luxury of smearing a generous amount of toothpaste on a fresh, stiff bristled toothbrush.  He continued humming as he brushed his teeth, washed his face, and combed his hair down as best he could with wet fingers. 

                He felt anxious for something to do.  Remembering the ID card and access code Tony had given him for the lab, he grabbed his mask out of the neatly folded pile of the pieces of his suit.  He slipped on the mask, feeling the expertly softened fabric slip against his not-stubble, and savoring the delicate clean smell.  Tony’s socks had stretched a little further overnight as he tossed and turned and kicked at his sheets, but he patiently tugged the heels back into place.  Somewhat sleepily, he wandered out into the hall and toward the lab. 

                Before he knew it, Peter was elbow deep in science and quite some time had passed.  He had somewhat carelessly cleared one of the storage desks of its contents and covered it with papers on which he’d been recording potential tweaks to some of his previous scientific endeavors.  Once he was satisfied with empty feeling in his mind from throwing around numbers for hours, he started in on the grunt work.  He’d been fairly careless in the last couple weeks in regard to his equipment.  His shooters were scratched, one potentially damaged beyond the apparent cosmetic issues, and their lack of webfluid was a big part of why he was in Stark Tower in the first place.  He’d noticed the chemical cabinet while working the day before and now was admiring its contents with equal parts appreciation and guilt.  Granted, he didn’t exactly have an employee contract with Mr. Stark, but Tony hadn’t exactly discouraged him from working on his own scientific endeavors either.  The chemicals he needed weren’t terribly expensive in small quantities, but in order to achieve the right consistency, he’d need to distill larger quantities into less of a more potent mixture.  It would be pocket change to Tony, but the act felt a little sour in his stomach.  He assured himself that he would pay Tony back when he get his feet on the ground, even if that meant cutting his pay in half for a while.  With that guilt set aside for the moment, he slipped off his mask so that he could see what he was doing and set to work gathering materials and tools that he had seen in the lab the day before. 

                He worked contentedly until around six that evening when he was interrupted by the lab door opening. 

                “AUTHORIZED: STARK, TONY.”  Peter startled at the loud, mechanized voice, grabbing his mask off the desk and retreating backward, legs tangling in his stool and landing awkwardly on the ground.  He stared bewildered at Tony who merely blinked in confusion. 

                “Spider-Man?” he asked, mouth working a little faster than his brain.  “Did you trip?  I mean, is that even a thing, with your spider-dexterity or something?”  Peter stared up at him, self-consciously kicking the stool away from his legs.  His mask was on crooked, and he was wearing some Spider-Man themed pajama pants he’d no doubt bought ironically at a big box discount store along with the oversized Black Sabbath T-shirt Tony had lent him the night before and those damnable, ridiculous socks. 

                This situation called for an emotional response, but Tony’s stomach had jumped to his chest before he could burst into laughter.  Peter merely climbed to his feet, straightening his mask in an attempt to gather some of the shattered remains of his dignity.  Under his mask, his ears were as bright as his costume and his chest beat faster than it had in half of his near misses dancing through the New York Cityscape with a supervillain tight on his tail.  Tony’s age showed slightly as the lines around his eyes pinched into pleased creases.  His signature smirk did what it could to hide the honest emotion, but around his eyes, the satisfaction peaked through. 

                “I – uh….  I’ll pay you back!”  Peter promised, confusing one embarrassment with another, and Tony scanned the room for damages.  The young man had done quite a number on the order he had strictly enforced in the room, with discarded supplies sitting on the floor around a desk covered in messy notes.  His chemical cabinet was open and some of the bottles were sitting around where Peter had been working.  The ventilation hoods purred happily and Tony sniffed, curiously.  The air smelled faintly of burnt tires and stomach acid as he approached the workspace. 

                “What are you…?”  He asked, pretending not to notice as Peter folded a sheet of paper and slid it in his pocket.  “Is this your web stuff?”  He asked, motioning toward a container of a blue-tinged, viscous fluid that seemed to be the source of the smell.  Peter picked up the stool and pushed it back to where it belonged.

                “It’s not web fluid, no.  Well, not exactly…”  Tony merely eyed him impatiently, uninterested in whatever technicality Peter was wrestling.  “Remember the problem with the casing on the ion generated force field device?  We needed something kinda like, but not exactly web fluid.  I made the web-fluid to set up quickly and dissolve after a short period of time.  We needed something more stable and less elastic than what I use…”  Tony had already picked up the beaker and started studying the colloid.  “C-Careful!  I’m not sure if it’s completely stable yet.”  Tony’s lip quirked in acknowledgment, but he continued to study the solution, holding it up to the light.  Peter started to shift uncomfortably beside him, stacking used beakers that needed cleaning and rearranging the papers that had snuck over to his work station as he worked.   

                “This is amazing.  Less than twenty-four hours...” he muttered, more to himself than to Peter.  “Y’know, I wrestled with this idea some while I was in college and I could never come up with the formula for this kind of material.  Granted, I’m not a chemicals wiz like you are, but twenty-four hours… _damn._ ”  Peter’s face heated slightly and he moved away to get another stool, anticipating a barrage of questions regarding the process and materials.  “How much do you want for this sample?” Tony asked, setting the beaker down and leaning against the desk.  Within an instant, he’d switched from fellow scientist and geek to chairman of the board and sole owner of Stark Industries.  His shoulders sloped with a practiced nonchalance, and he smiled invitingly. 

                “What?”  Peter responded flatly after an agonizing moment of silence. 

                “I mean, we might make a deduction considering the hourly pay I’m giving you for the work in the first place, but how much would you want for this specific patent?  One Hundred K?”  Tony all but had the checkbook at the ready as Peter studied him.  For some reason, he felt itchy under Tony’s pointed gaze, suddenly all the more aware of how ridiculous this entire situation was. 

                “I didn’t—“ Peter started, completely taken off guard by how insistently Tony was watching him.  His eyes were brilliantly dark, the color of newly finished mahogany, but without some the warmth and mirth he’d seen earlier.  Within an instant he’d gone from comrade to competitor.  Aware of the younger man’s discomfort, he sighed, relaxing back against the table. 

                “You’re right.  I’m being too pushy.”  Tony eased some of the awkwardness with what would be a self-depreciating smirk were it not accompanied by his practiced arrogance. 

                “No!  I just-- I mean, I owe you one anyway.  I didn’t do it for a patent or money or anything.”   Now it was Tony’s turn to feel uncomfortable.  With a quirked eyebrow, he nodded once, appreciating the genuine selflessness intent behind the gesture. 

                “I mean, we barely know each other, but you’ve done so much for me…  I was just tinkering at first, but the problem kept circling in my head and the next thing I knew I was making it, y’know?  And, I’m sorry about using everything without your permission; I was just kinda on a roll after I made a really good batch of web fluid.  I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but maybe just give me another week to find a job?  I’d like to keep working here in my off hours, but I don’t really think I’m qualified for this kind of position.”  Tony touched his fingers to his bottom lip as a nervous tic as he listened and Peter anxiously twiddled his thumbs.  The younger man jumped when Tony started to laugh.  The sound was sudden, and the rich, raspy noise echoed slightly off the metal ventilation hoods.  He swore quietly as all of the amusement from the last day and a half caught up with him.  He remembered the smaller man staring at him sprawled across the floor with the metal stool. 

                “Jesus, kid,” he laughed.  “You are so…” he struggled for a moment to find the right word, “unguarded.”  Peter weighed the word in his head, uncertain whether he should be proud or affronted.  “I didn’t do all this out of the kindness in my heart.  Brilliant superhero needs work?  I need scientists?  It’s a give and take.  Companies would charge as much as a small house for this solution alone.  Not to mention Pepper’s still fussing about me having a new _‘playmate’_.”

                “Considering your reputation, I’m not sure I consider being called your ‘playmate’ a compliment…”  Peter grumbled, slightly embarrassed by the implication while Tony smiled a little lecherously.

                “Aww, c’mon.  I’m not that bad, right?  Plus, you’d be the first brown-eyed beauty I’ve ever had in my lab.”  Peter reveled in the comradery, but the line soured his stomach.  He replayed it a couple times before he realized the problem.  Brown-eyed.  He wasn’t wearing his normal mask yesterday.  It was a minor detail, and a popular trait, but combine that with his skin color and around where he used to be living…  It dawned on him just how easy it would be for Tony to deduce his secret identity, assuming he hadn’t already.  It was absurd to think that he’d be allowed the position, had Tony not known anything about him besides his superhero identity.  Suddenly his mask felt restricting on his face as his lungs shuddered for breath. 

                “You…” he started, gathering the gumption to make the accusation.  “You know who I am,” he stated, rather than asking.  “You knew before you even offered me the position.”  His voice grew tighter at the end as his mind started spiraling into conspiracy theories.  With his luck, when something bad happened, a long series of unfortunate happenings was certain to follow.  _Stupid_ he thought, _Clumsy and stupid._   Tony merely shrugged insouciantly. 

                “Have you ever heard of S.H.I.E.L.D., Mr. Parker?”  Peter peeled off the mask, leveling Tony with a frustrated scowl. 

                “Of course I have.”  S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had more than once stormed in, scooped up the bad guy he’d just finished nabbing and disappeared like high tech ninjas.  It would’ve been irritating were it not so impressive. 

                “Then S.H.I.E.L.D.’s dug up every bit of history there is to find on you.  I helped build the most recent database and security systems they’re using to store that information.”  The gentle trust that had building in Peter’s eyes turned cold and suspicious.  “We’re at a turning point, Peter.  The people of the United States aren’t going to tolerate people operating the way you do for very much longer, and when things start to change, you’ll be the easiest target.”  Peter shuddered at the implied threat.  Whatever Tony knew, if he was a target, Aunt May would be in danger soon enough.   “ _I didn’t do this out of the kindness in my heart._ ”  Tony promised again. 

                “What do you expect me to do?”  Peter wondered aloud, feeling the anticipation of a coming storm setting around his shoulders. 

                “For now?  Live here, work in the labs, and don’t antagonize New York any more than you have to.  I’m still working out the long term plans.” 

 


	5. Chapter 5

      Despite several valiant attempts, Peter had made little progress on their technological conundrum after Tony’s departure. He’d spend the last two hours beating his head against the wall over the rearrangement of the inner workings of the device to allow for optimized cooling, so he figured he’d probably earned a break. And by that, he meant that he’d probably start literally beating his head against the wall if he had to keep pouring over the diagrams. Despite sleeping well the night before, perhaps because of it, his body was practically demanding that he soak up a little more luxury and take a nap.

      Never one to take the easy way out, and with perhaps a justified touch of a martyr complex, Peter changed out of his pajamas into his uniform and snapped his webshooters on. He briefly considered calling Aunt May and telling her about his change in employment, but he didn’t want her to be disappointed if things didn’t work out.

     She’d always joked about him working for Tony Stark one day, but the entire thing was starting to chafe a little bit. Like he didn’t belong here and he was about to get rubberbanded out of this temporary peace and into something a lot less awesome, like a rip between dimensions where he’d meet alternate versions of himself and have to team up to fight Galactus or something. Seriously. Reed said that’d happened to him once. He said it gave him nightmares.

     Instead he stood in front of the school bus-sized reinforced one way mirror which lined the edge of his… what? Living room? With so much open space, it was hard to tell. As usual for the lanky young man, he felt out of place standing there, rubber soles on soft, pearly off-white carpeting. So long as he could get more web fluid, he figured he might as well go out and patrol. Even if nothing major was happening, he’d found some extra change in his duffel bag which brought him up to having enough to afford another hotdog.

 

* * *

 

      The next morning, he’d awakened to find a bag of clothes outside his door along with a tray of assorted breakfast pastries. Tony had left a note.

  _Hey Kid,_

_Forgot to tell you where you can wash your stuff. Busy day yesterday._

_Anyhow, here’s some extras for the mean time._

_Also, realized you might be hungry. Things like this escape me._

_I’ll find you later today and we’ll draw up the specifics of your contract._

_\--Iron Man_

     He folded the note and stuck it in the pocket of his pajama pants. After putting the clothes on the bed in his room, he grabbed the tray of pastries and headed toward the R&D lab Tony had assigned him.

     Considering yesterday’s ski mask …business, he figured that dress code wasn’t going to be an issue. He was wearing the same pair of pajamas as last night, but he’d tugged on his mask before opening the door. Now, he folded it up and stuffed a cream cheese Danish into his mouth as he rummaged around in the cabinets where he’d found a coffee maker and instant coffee while he was working yesterday. At first, he’d thought it was a strange thing to keep next to all the chemicals and beakers, but as he filled it with water from the industrial sink and plugged it into the wall next to a Bunsen burner, he started to see the brilliance of it.

      It was three in the afternoon before he’d finished the basic components for the prototype and while he was on a roll, his brain was starting to ooze from every facial orifice. As he wandered down the hall, he remembered the way he’d felt the time his father had taken him to work when his mother was sick. He’d been very little, he figured he couldn’t have been more than four, but his dad had let him wander down the hall to the water fountain to get a drink. He’d gotten lost on the way back and sat down the hall crying until his father had come out to find him.

      He felt a little like that now. Lost. Definitely lost. Tony had showed him his bedroom and showed him his lab and that was it. Was he supposed to be doing something? Were there things he wasn’t supposed to be doing? Defiant at the thought, he hopped up onto the wall and crawled the rest of the way down the hall. When he found a stairwell, he took it up to the next floor curiously.

     The next floor consisted of another similar hallway, but this one was more professional. Instead of carpet, the floor was lined with granite tiling, black marbled with wisps of gold and flecks of white. The walls were white and trimmed with elegant dark wood boxes. He was careful not to place his feet on the wood in fear of damaging it. There was no one else on the floor but as he approached the end of the hallway, he could feel minute vibrations in the wall with the delicate microscopic barbs on his fingertips. There was a false wall of some kind, and he stepped down to feel it more carefully with the tips of his fingers.

 _What the…?_ He slid his fingers over a spot in the wall which had a slightly different texture and the piece shifted. He could hear muffled voices now. He heard Tony talking.

      “It’s got nothing to do with what I want. The tides are changing and the people are voting in favor of candidates they believe will push this kind of agenda. I know Steve, but think with your head on this one—not your heart.”

     “I am thinking with my head. It’s my conscience telling me it’s wrong. I don’t care how you intend to sugarcoat it; you’re talking about taking the right to choose away from people who never asked to be what they are. I can’t believe you’re even considering meeting with these people!” Tony sighed.

     “Things aren’t that simple.”

     “I agree Tony’s not the best choice Cap, but we can’t deny that this thing’s growing. Most of the anti-mutant bandwagon’s ready to start up the camps.” Ever pushing strategy, Fury’s message hit home and Steve’s face paled. Steve had missed that part of history, but he’d seen enough motion pictures and read enough to fill in the blanks.

     “It won’t come to that,” Tony promised. “They’re—…What is it, Cap?” Steve eyed the entranceway reaching slowly for his shield. He was crouched low into a fighting stance when Tony stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait. … _Spidey? Is that you_?”

     The air was thick, humming with silence.  Peter leaned into the wall, using his weight to slide it open, hands shaking slightly.

     “I didn’t—“

     “What in God’s name is this, Stark!?” Fury’s face boomed down at them from a projector screen. Captain America glanced between them, keeping his shield in hand.

     “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be working,” Tony sounded a little frantic and Peter saw a sternness he hadn’t seen from him before. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle under the three men’s gazes.

     “I was taking a bathroom break,” he replied with a gentle inflection which made it seem like a question. He could practically see Fury’s missing eye bulge in response.

     “Does this look like a goddamn bathroom to you, kid?” Feeling slightly affronted, Peter stood a little straighter under the scrutiny. He looked around the room, analyzing exactly what he’d just false wall-ed himself into.

     “Maybe I wandered a little bit. How was I supposed to know I was sticking my webs into fate of the world stuff?” Peter could feel himself easing back into the persona of the suit, which was good… at least, it totally beat wetting himself in front of America’s Son. Steve was wearing his uniform with the hood off, the lack of which did nothing to diminish his aura of authority. On the other side of the room Tony was pinching the bridge of his nose.

     “I didn’t intend for you to meet this way, but this is Spider-Man. He needed a place to stay, and I needed staff smarter than the riffraff MIT keeps sending my way. Spidey, meet Cap. I believe you and Fury have already met?” Tony looked to Peter who nodded microscopically.

    “Briefly—“ He started to agree when he was rudely interrupted by the giant head digitally painted on the wall.

     “I know who he is. Question is, why you’re shaking up with some loose-cannon vigilante kid, which I’m just _sure_ I don’t want to know, and why in god’s name you gave him security clearance for this motherfucking _floor_!”

     Tony thoroughly ignored Fury as he raged, opting instead to utilize this critical moment for the life-changing work of picking the dirt out from under his fingernails. He’d never been very good with father figures, especially after the first one.

     “He works here in the suit and everything?” Steve was in that zone that’s somewhere past exasperation where he’d come full circle and was back to making pleasant conversation which at an incorrect turn could end with his shield in the drywall. Tony scoffed.

     “He fears commitment. I’ll deal with the security breach, but the point is that I’ve got a live debate tomorrow and the wonder twins here can’t agree on whether I’m allowed to go. I’m going, by the way, I’d just prefer to have your blessings.”

     There was a pregnant pause after that. Fury and Tony had reached the point in the discussion (see: argument) where they’d dug their heels in and neither was willing to give any ground. If there had to be a politicized debate regarding the Superhuman Registration Act (which Steve didn’t believe was necessary), Fury insisted that Tony be briefed beforehand and to follow his speaking points to the letter with the hopes that Tony might compromise and at least agree to be briefed. Peter caught eyes with Captain America.

     “Look, if this discussion is going to continue, at the very least we need to remove the civilian.” Spider-Man could practically feel himself deflating under the taller man’s baby blues. Partially because he recognized the feeling, Tony stepped in.

     “Maybe not,” he mused. “Spider-Man’s not a mutant, but Fury and I agree that he’ll be one of the first targets if the act passes. Normally I wouldn’t vouch for a guy like this, but he’s a pretty smart kid.” Tony smiled at him, almost encouragingly, with a touch of the warmth he’d seen the other day. “Lay it on us. Superhuman Registration Act. What’s your perspective?”

     Fury looked less than interested in what he had to say, but Peter supposed he did have an opinion after hearing bits and pieces about it in the media. With everything that had been going on in his life he hadn’t really had time to worry about politics, but the implications for him were monumental.

     "Well," he started.


	6. Chapter 6

      “I know I haven’t been around the block as many times as you guys have, but it’s like, there’s so much to lose. Do you know what I mean? I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen and every time I messed up and someone found out who I was?

     **_BAM_.** Someone else suffered the consequences. I have… I’ve got family. Maybe not a lot of family, but she’s always been there for me. When I start hearing about this kind of stuff, all I’m thinking about is what that means for her and everyone else who knows me.”

     “Kid,” Fury started to interrupt him.

     “No, gimmie a minute. Like, for you guys, with billions of dollars to protect the people you care about or… just, everything you are, Cap. I don’t have that. I just have the mask. And you guys are America’s heroes, and I’m like, some kid from Brooklyn. They love you. They trust you. Me? I’m Spidey non grata.”

     There was a moment of silence after he finished and Captain America was studying him carefully as though he hadn’t seen him before he’d finished speaking. Tony had stopped fidgeting as he spoke and Fury’s face was a stony mask. Steve cleared his throat.

     “You’re completely right. We all know— _not so much Tony_ —but most of us know what it’s like having to keep a secret. Spider-Man’s blessed and he’s done a lot of good for a kid, but that’s all he is. He’s not ready to have the world knocking at his door and even if he was, he’s never done a thing to deserve it.” Steve turned to Fury and returned the poker face he was receiving in equal measure.

     “That’s good, Steve. I hear you. I’m asking you now, _Captain America_ : How do we slow this down? I’ve run every probability and simulation I can think of. Barring treason, I can’t think of a single way to stop this. Money’s exchanged hands. They’re backed by the majority of the constituents. The last thing I can think of is a PR push.” As Tony spoke, Steve and Fury held a heated discussion through eye contact alone which made Peter feel a little too small for his breeches.

     “I’m working on it. I’ll get back to you. Fury out.” Abruptly, the line went dead and the giant face projected onto the wall faded into black. Tony rubbed his hands together in a gesture of nonchalance looking to Peter and Steve. Awkward silences weren’t something Tony Stark tolerated well.

     “So… _that_ happened. Well spoken, Spidey.” Tony raised a dark eyebrow at Steve whose lip twitched in response. Peter noticed the way a small dimple formed in his tanned cheek when he fought against a smile. No man should be so blessed. It was probably just the residual heat from the projector but suddenly he felt a little warm. Steve noticed him staring and smiled at him disarmingly before Tony stepped enthusiastically between them.

     “Now that we’re all friends, does anyone else need a cappuccino?” Tony shot a glance at Peter before promising, “My treat.”

     And that’s how Peter Parker wound up sitting at a small table in the backroom of a fancy café in a modified gimp suit with America’s two biggest heroes.  Steve had hesitated once they reached the ground floor, but with a practiced grace Tony hurried him along infectious enthusiasm and a tact which would have made it horribly rude for him to refuse. The café was next door to Stark Tower.

     It was a little corner shop which seemed inappropriate nestled between the impossibly high sky scrapers of New York’s financial district. It didn’t look like much from the front, maybe a cramped Ma and Pa type antique store, but it was long and narrow. The floor was dark walnut, probably older than Tony with the scrapes to show for it, but with a fresh coat of polish.

     When they entered, an attractive young woman with thick dark hair escorted them into a conference room in the back with a round wooden table and a few plush chairs. Tony nodded to her as he sat down to confirm his order and she looked expectantly across the table at Spider-Man and Captain America, as though this wasn’t the strangest thing she’d see this week.

     “Coffee with sugar, please.” Steve smiled at her after teasing each word out of his mouth with an outdated lilt. Tony watched her face as her ears turned pink and she turned to Peter.

     “Can I get—“ Tony held out a hand to halt him.

     “Wait. Do you mind? I’d feel like a terrible host if I didn’t have you try their caramel cappacino scuro. I’ve never in my life tasted a better drink and five years ago I wouldn’t be caught dead saying something like that.” Peter giggled uncomfortably, clearing his throat to devoid it of the girlish tickle.

     “Sure. Caffeine, sugar… I’m not picky.”

     Tony nodded again to the waitress who turned, closing the door behind her.

     “Tell me you didn’t plan this, Tony,” Steve sighed in mock frustration. “That really was a serious breach, completely unlike you.” Tony bit against the edge of his lip with a slight frown. It was just a momentary flash of expression but it gripped Peter and he ran it through his head several times while they spoke.

     “No. Absolutely not. That’s the weird thing. You know me, I normally never let my guard down like that. Things have been pretty busy around the tower, somehow it slipped my mind.” Tony scraped at a nail absently.

     Watching Tony study his nails with another expressive frown, Peter realized that Tony’s hands never really stopped moving. He was rarely without something in his hands as the worked in the lab, whether it was an actual tool or a piece of scrap metal that he’d run his fingers over as he thought. When he didn’t have something to hold, he’d pick at his short nails or rub his well-earned callouses.

     Peter couldn’t remember him ever seeing him do it while he was in the suit, but outside the suit, his hands never stopped. While he watched, Peter considered the studies he’d read about the wiring of the brain and briefly considered if Tony’s neurological structure would be visibly different in such a way that would have either caused or indicated an extreme focus on his hands. It could be purely psychological, stemming from some complicated and exceedingly vague Freudian theory, but he’d stopped reading after Freud brought up the whole, ‘wanting to sleep with his mom’ business.

     “So, Spider-Man. Do tell. Is this how you figured you’d spend your day? Having drinks with Cap and me?”

     “I—“

     “ _I_ kinda figured I’d be making dinner plans with one of the Playboy girls I haven’t had the pleasure of hearing from. This is nice though. _Wholesome._ Very Cap. Isn’t that right?” Beside him, Steve huffed slightly.

     “A little wholesome would do you some good. I can think of several specific instances when your life could have used some more wholesome.”

     “Oooh, it that what we’re gonna do? In front of the kid? He jests. No. He doesn’t jest. He’s totally right, but he’s not actually that much of an ass. He’s just sassy since he’s missing _I Love Lucy_ reruns. “ Steve laughed outwardly at that, grateful for the reference and nudged Tony with a stern elbow.

     There was a gentle rap on the door before the young waitress returned carrying three squat mugs. Without pause she doled the out to each person. Tony reached out to receive his cup while Steve and Peter sat back and allowed her to place them down as she felt comfortable. Tony already had a thick foam lining his goatee as Steve nodded to her gratefully.

     When she left again, the door closed and the atmosphere changed with it. Tony grinned at Peter over his drink, nodding toward a delicate spider which had been drawn in the thick layer of foam.

     “Isn’t she amazing? She started art school last fall and she’s been practicing on all the drinks. She’s no Steve Rogers, but I swear she’s a little better every time.” Tony set his mug down with a look of satisfaction. Peter tugged his mask up over his nose, a little worried about getting foam on the edge of his mask with the wide mouth of the cup. He drew it up to his own mouth, feeling the creamy white bubbles pop against his upper lip as he sipped the drink.

     The espresso was strong and mildly sweet with a kind of heavy warmness which made his entire body relax the tenseness he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He melted into it, taking another large mouthful before setting it down. A caramel sharpness teased the back of his throat after he’d swallowed it and he could taste it on his tongue when he took a breath.

     “The best. Wasn’t I right? Steve here said it was too sweet. He’s wrong, obviously.” The way Tony stated it was more of a question and Pete could feel himself grinning. He remembered sitting in the high school cafeteria with MJ and Harry making these kinds of jokes only this time it wouldn’t end with him getting a trayful of meatloaf dumped on his head.

     “Yeah. Not to be un-American or anything, but wow.”

     “Coffee’s, coffee. Sometimes you’ve got to appreciate the simple things in life.” Cap advised sagely, but Tony just rolled his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

     Life found a sort of hectic rhythm over the next couple weeks. Neither Tony nor Peter cooked so Tony got in the habit of ordering extra of whatever he wanted for dinner and sharing it with Peter when he got up. He was starting to enjoy having another brain to pick and since Peter was such a loner he never felt overwhelmed by his presence. Sometimes he felt like he was taking care of a very smart cat. However, Peter would have probably packed up his few possessions and gone back to being homeless if he knew so he kept that thought to himself.

     It was late morning again and Peter was blearily brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

     “AUTHORIZED: TONY STARK,” the door informed Peter loudly as he set out two cups.

     “Almost done,” he promised, as Tony shuffled over to the table with a giant bakery box that read in large blue lettering: _The Nut Hut_. The plastic on the top warped slightly as Tony cracked open the lid. Peter was pouring the hot coffee into two large beakers when Tony shoved a doughnut at his face. Peter looked at his hands incredulously and then at Tony.

     “What am I supposed to do with that while I’m pouring?” he laughed, setting down the pot. Tony blinked his bloodshot eyes slowly before pressing it closer to Peter’s mouth.

     “Shut up and try this,” he mumbled slightly, rubbing the sticky sweet edge of the pastry against Peter’s lips. Peter’s cheeks colored but he relented, pressing his teeth into the soft dough while he grabbed it. Tony was… considerate, in a weird way. But the more tired he got, the less he remembered normal human behavior. After he got back from a business trip in Argentina he’d come into the lab and pressed a coffee mug against Peter’s back until Peter stopped what he was doing and made coffee.

     “’s good, right?” Tony grinned, halfway through his second. Peter looked at him confused. “What is it? …is that bacon?” Still chewing, he pulled the doughnut back to study it. It was a normal glazed buttercream doughnut with thick, dark brown icing. He could see that the batter was speckled with small pieces of bacon.

     “Maple syrup and bacon. _You’re welcome_ ,” he verbally patted himself on the back before forcing down a giant bite with an equally large chug of hot coffee.

     “It’s… kind of amazing. I’m sure Aunt May would have a finger to shake though.” Tony chuckled, remembering the stern phone call he’d received a couple days ago.

     “How’s she doing? She seemed pretty worried about me leading you off the straight and narrow.” It had been the longest lecture he’d received since the last time he’d visited S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters uninvited. Peter winced, getting the gist of what Tony was thinking.

     “She’s doing well. Still as fiery as ever. She started swing dancing classes the other day.” Peter smiled fondly and Tony laughed. It had been weird at first. Okay, it had been doing the Fantastic Four a favor weird at first, talking to Tony about his private life, but Tony seemed to really enjoy it. He’d seemed pleased with the little tidbits of his life Peter was willing to share, especially when it came to Aunt May and Uncle Ben.

     Tony poured himself another 500mL of coffee, wiping up the drop that spilled with the palm of his hand and then his hand on his pants.

     “Aren’t you going to bed after this?” Peter prompted, worried about. From what he’d seen, it had been at least three days since Tony had done anything more than doze off.

     “Can’t,” Tony grumbled. “Pep needs me in the office by noon for a lunch meeting with the Board. The head of the East Asian branch is being investigated for fraud and she needs me to touch base with the other Regional Chairs.” He yawned his way through the last couple words, and stretched, his muscular stomach peeking out from under his white cotton wife-beater. He must have spent the night working because he had grease stains on his shirt and sweatpants. His hair was slicked and slightly puffed from running his fingers through it repeatedly while the worked.

     Peter studied the dark shadow of hair around Tony’s signature goatee as Tony tore another doughnut in two. Tony’s skin was pale, with a soft yellow undertone from Italian ancestry several generations removed. Black stubble peppered his cheeks and throat and Peter eyed it with a hint of jealousy. He jumped when Tony chuckled.

     “That bad?” Tony absentmindedly rubbed a calloused hand across his chin and it made a soft scratching noise. Peter swallowed before turning his attention back to his neglected breakfast.

     “Ah, no. Not especially,” he lied lightly with a smile. Tony just continued to scratch his palm with his beard.

     “Hmm… Your hair’s getting pretty long too.” His knuckles brushed the edge of Peter’s eyebrow as he tugged on an auburn lock. Peter batted his hand away lightly, tugging on the same piece of hair.

    “I guess so.” His hazel eyes crossed slightly as he studied it demurely. He nearly slipped off his stool when Tony clapped him on the back.

     “ _Alright_ , my stylist is waiting downstairs. Since I don’t have faith in you getting your hair cut anytime soon, as your employer I _must insist_ you come with me.” Air puffed across the desk as Tony flipped to bakery box shut. He studied Peter with an impatient hand on his hip. Peter looked between him and his remaining 100mL of coffee with a hint of desperation.

     “I can handle it,” he promised as Tony grabbed the beaker from the table and gulped down the remaining lukewarm drink. “I’ve got a guy I go to,” Peter protested as Tony grabbed a wrist and all but forced him standing. “I’m scared of scissors.”

     “ _Humor me_ , Parker.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> QUESTION! Do you guys like the space between paragraphs? Feel free to comment. I have poor eyesight and I use it to follow paragraph by paragraph when I write. Is it distracting? Do you like it or hate it?

                Tony’s calloused hand was warm and loose around Peter’s slender wrist. Coaxing, not forcing, Tony hurried Peter down the hall toward his room. Using this gentleness to his advantage, Peter whisked his hand away, rubbing his wrist with his other hand. He paused to study Tony nervously.

  
                “What?” Tony looked for any sign of rejection, and Peter seemed conflicted for a moment.

  
                “It’s… Not that I’m not extremely grateful to be here or anything. I guess I feel like you’re kinda mixing up the… y’know, lines. Like, for you there’s Tony Stark and he’s Iron Man and that’s cool.” Peter’s tone grew vaguely reverent. “It’s really, really cool. But I’m Peter Parker. Peter Parker doesn’t get haircuts with genius billionaire playboy philanthropists. Peter Parker sold his bike to a homeless guy because he’s too flighty to keep the job at Marco’s Pizzaria which actually kept him fed. I know you aren’t big on subtlety, but it’s kind of a thing for me. Being here… it’s been like a dream to me. But I’m pushing it enough as it is. You and I can’t be seen together.”

  
                Tony had paused in front of him in the hallway. He and Peter were both still wearing their pajamas and Tony would be lying if he didn’t imagine that this was what a sleepover would have felt like. A very long, very profitable and scientifically fruitful sleepover. So basically, any sleepover Tony would host. With that playfulness disguising his true intentions, he laughed.

  
                “Are you breaking up with me, Mr. Parker? Because if so, I might have to fire you.” Tony chuckled again darkly with a grin which couldn’t quite be called a smile. Peter huffed in exasperation, looking to the walls of the hallway for some support. “Peter. I know. We’ve talked about the whole secret identity thing. When you trusted me with your identity…”

  
                _That you already knew. Like everyone else, I freaking swear._ Peter’s mind rattled on.

  
                “Peter Parker became an employee of Stark Industries. You have an account opened in your name with Allteil banking where your earnings are deposited. I wasn’t going to force it on you, but it’s there if you ever need it.” Tony looked unreasonably serious for a man in filthy grey sweatpants and a wife-beater. He scratched his head in an awkward gesture before continuing.

  
                “I also wanted to make this a little easier to swallow, but since it’s an issue now, we’ll talk about it.” Tony stated gesturing with his hands, “I’ve got a tailor downstairs as well with a suit in your size. I’d like for you to come to Los Angeles with me.” Silence drew out like a bowstring. Rather than facing him, Peter closed his eyes for a couple seconds to fight the electric uncertainty of being completely out of control. He felt it rise around him leaving him with a staticky irritation.

  
                “I… No, Tony.” The last couple weeks started to catch up with him and he felt his chest tightening. This was a bad idea. Anxiety beat a rhythm in his chest. “I mean, I appreciate the offer, but…” Tony seemed to age before him as he grew serious. Like an overlain picture he watched Tony shift from someone he’d seen as a companion to a powerful leader and mentor. He felt himself recoil slightly at the transition.

  
                “I’m not dragging you out to Los Angeles on a pleasure cruise, Peter. I know this is short notice, but I’m asking you to come as the Junior Partner of Stark Industries.” Predictably, Peter just gaped at him for several moments. As with most uncertainties in his life, Peter felt initially inclined to run screaming. He settled for a calming breath and an unnecessary question.

  
                “What?”

  
                “I started thinking about it when we talked about the Superhuman and Mutant Transparency Act. The fact is, sooner or later who you are will get out. And you’re right. You don’t have the same luxuries that Cap and I have. You’re a brilliant young man though, Peter, and with the same advantages I’ve had, maybe you’d be the one with the multibillion dollar company. I want to introduce you to the public as Peter Parker before any connections can be drawn to Spider-Man.”

                “Tony… I—“ Peter’s hands were in front of him, placating.

                “Peter,” Tony was coaxing, his voice as soft as Peter had ever heard it. It drew his attention like a lightning rod. “I need you to trust me on this one. Come to LA with me. I need Peter Parker on this one.” Tony’s eyes were warm amber and Peter could feel himself being drawn in and held fast. Tony was persuasive, charismatic… and he’d saved the webslinger when he needed it. This might be one thing Peter Parker could do that Spider-man couldn’t. Peter tugged the fabric of his mask over his head, hair frizzy with static, and he stared Tony down.

                “And we leave Spider-Man out of this.”

                “Tony Stark and his protégé, biochem whiz kid Peter Parker. This is just a contingency. Hopefully you stay out of the limelight until you’re ready, but until then, we’re going to build some good press to head off the tide. Plus, you’re a damn good scientist and I want you on my team. Deal?” Tony jutted out a stiff hand for Peter to grip and without Spidey sense to guide him, he took the plunge. Tony’s palm was calloused, but the back was surprisingly soft.

                “Do you moisturize?” Peter could have slapped himself. He tended to blather when he got nervous. He also had a terrible habit of talking to himself which he hadn’t noticed living alone. Tony looked startled by the outburst, but quickly recovered with a grin. He ran a fingertip along Peter’s and drew out the tiny spines which allowed the wallcrawler to crawl walls. “Woah!” Peter complained.

                “You’ve got to let me see those under a microscope sometime. You’ve studied them right? First thing, I bet.”

                “That’s pretty forward of you, Tony. Normally those don’t come out until at least the third date.” Peter drew his hand back and rubbed the fingertip with a thumb to relax the microscopic hooks. One look at Tony’s face and Peter realized his mistake.

                “…You know I got to ask. I’ll put it scientifically: ‘Are they stimulated by arousal of a sexual nature’?” Tony’s face had shifted from amused to utterly shit-eating, so Peter figured he was off the hook. He tugged his mask back over his face.

                “Aaaand that’s about enough of that.” With his mask in place, he felt himself slip back into his persona, like an invisible wall between him and whatever he felt when Tony rubbed his fingertips. The truth was, they were sensitive, and he could feel goose bumps on his skin from the unexpected contact.

                “I left you some more jeans outside your room. Get changed and stow the mask. I’ll meet you downstairs.


	9. Chapter 9

                Less than twelve hours later, Peter was sitting across from Tony Stark on his private jet, well on his way to Stark’s South American subsidiary branch. Tony had insisted that he let the stylist gel his hair back, and now when he caught his reflection in the glass window of the plane, he barely recognized himself. His knee bounced frantically under the gleaming mahogany table which separated his seat from Tony’s.

                The plane itself was one of Stark’s business jets, with a cream leather interior and soft white recess lights in the ceiling. Instead of being separated into rows like every plane Peter had ever seen, the cabin was a single large room, with reinforced bulletproof glass windows lining the sides showing the clouds beneath them. It was overcast outside so all Peter had to look at was his own (startlingly handsome) reflection. It reminded him of when Harry would insist he dress up when they went out.

                A warm hand grabbed he knee under the table and he jumped. Tony was looking up from the phone he had been messing with.

                “Calm down. I’ll give a quick speech, shake your hand in front of lots of cameras, and then it’s just like any other party.”

                “Somehow I doubt they’ll be handing out red solo cups.” Now that Tony’s hand had left his knee, it started to bounce again.

                “Think of it as an undercover mission. Be friendly, be smart, and let everyone else talk more than you. You can be endearing when you try.” Tony’s face did the thing where his eyes crinkled and he went back to fiddling with the phone. Peter was back to looking out the window and at his reflection when Tony pushed the phone across the table.

                “I know you don’t have a cell right now, so consider this your work phone. I programmed in a couple contacts including myself and Pepper.” Peter stared down at the large glass screen and back at Tony.

                “Work phone. I need a way to contact you. It’s a gift to me, not you. Hell, I could write it off my taxes if I wanted to.” The rapid fire reasoning hit Peter and he sighed.

                “Okay Tony. I’ll take this amazing piece of modern machinery, and I’ll try not to buttdial you.” Peter grabbed the phone and pressed the screen.

                _FINGERPRINT RECOGNIZED. WELCOME PETER._ The text flashed on the screen in big green letters, and an animation opened the home screen. He flipped absent-mindedly through the contacts, surprised to find Aunt May’s home phone already added.

                “You aunt called last night. I’m not even sure how she found my number, but she wanted to wish you a happy birthday.” Tony laughed lightly.

                “Oh crap! I was supposed to call her!” Peter thumbed May Parker’s contact. “Thanks Tony. For everything.” He sidled out of his seat and excused himself to another area of the plane. With Peter across the room, Tony’s expression grew more somber. Tonight was going to be a long night. He adjusted his wristwatch, verifying that the suit was still reading his signal.


	10. Chapter 10

                It was early evening when they exited the plane, and the air was hot and chemical as they stepped down onto the tarmac. There was a limo waiting for them, and the driver opened the door with a slight bow. Peter shot Tony a look of discomfort and Tony just shrugged.

                Thankfully the limo was heavily air conditioned against the Los Angeles heat. Inside were two takeout packages of empanadas from an Argentinian place several blocks from the landing strip. After the long trip, the buttery doughy scent with a smokey kick of cumin and paprika seemed like a godsend.

                “Hope you don’t mind,” Tony said, handing Peter the Styrofoam case before tearing his open. “There will be food at the conference, but you didn’t strike me as a caviar kind of guy.” Tony bit into a doughy pouch, watching the steam rise from the meat inside. Peter could feel himself salivating at the sight. He’d been living off of hotdogs and breakfast pastries for far too long, and the scent of a fresh cooked meal was more than welcome.

                “Oh man. What even are these?” Peter tore open his case, ripping the Styrofoam slightly in the process. The pouch was hot and greasy between his fingers and he brought it gratefully to his mouth. The first bite was fresh, flakey dough with a hint of the beef filling. Tony watched him devour the first and quickly move on to the second.

                “You should say something if you’re hungry, Peter,” Tony laughed. “Here.” He passed Peter his second empanada, only half finished with his first. “They’re empanadas. Best in the states. Remind me when we get back that I should take you out more often.”

                Tony had always taken a great deal of pleasure in gift giving. In fact, it had been a major point of contention between Pepper and himself during their relationship. Somehow he more often than not upset Pepper with his gifts. His intentions, good though they were, often overwhelmed people. Had it not been Peter’s birthday, and had Peter not been under his employment, Tony had no doubt that Peter would have rejected the phone outright. He made a quick mental note that Peter was easily won over with food, particularly street food. It was difficult to imagine the kid he’d seen in the lab tolerating a five star restaurant, so it was fortunate that the empanadas went over well before the upscale (okay he could admit it) snobbery of the conference. Tony also appreciated simpler things from time to time, but there was something to be said for the shock and awe factor of extravagance when it came to his business partners and competitors.

                While Peter’s mouth was full, he covered the strategy.

                “When we get there, there will be paparazzi. Keep calm and avoid eye contact with any of them without looking hostile or disinterested. If you can, look a little bewildered. That will help sell your clean-cut, down-to-earth image.” Tony patted him gently on the shoulder as he choked a little. “We need to help people see the Peter Parker that I see.”

                Peter could feel his collar tighten and he reached up to loosen his tie before Tony batted his hand away.

                “I give a speech and call you on stage. I’ll say a couple things to introduce you. We shake hands. The press gets their pictures. Then we shake a few hands on our way out the door and get back to the hotel to sleep because we’re flying back in the morning.” Tony reached over and picked a piece of lint off of Peter’s lapel while Peter watched him a little bug-eyed. “You once held your own against the Hulk.” Tony smiled at the soft burst of laughter.

                Peter glanced at the divider before confiding, “I think I’d rather fight the Hulk again, if it’s all the same to you.”

                As promised, cameras flashed as soon as Tony opened the door. Several microphones were held near Tony’s face as he stepped forward to allow Peter to slide out.

                “Mr. Stark.”

                “Mr. Stark: We’ve heard rumors about a buyout of API. Do you have anything to add?”

                “Mr. Stark: Do you have any response to Miss Breen’s accusations?”

                “Would you like to introduce us your friend?”

                Peter fought the urge to put a hand between himself and the flashes of light. People took pictures of Spider-Man all the time, but they typically ended up under headlines such as _“SPIDER-MENACE!”_ or _“SPIDER-MAN TERRORIZES CENTRAL PARK”_. Having the camera flashes directed at Peter Parker left him feeling as overexposed as he was after that wardrobe malfunction; _“COSTUMED FREAK FLASHES QUEENS”_.

                Tony smiled and waved to the crowd, pulling Peter close with an arm around his shoulders. Several cameras flashed before Tony continued inside.

                Large glass doors were held open by chrome doorstops revealing geometric black and white tile floors and 3-story ceilings. In the entranceway there was a large display piece of modern art suspended from wires from the ceiling and dramatically illuminated by recess lights. Down a short hallway, Tony breezed past security and into the conference hall. The conference hall was only slightly more intimate than the dazzling entryway, lined by floor to ceiling glass windows which overlooked the scenic skyline of the city.

                The hall had a maximum occupancy of two thousand, but the five-hundred people talking and drinking around the uplifted stage seemed like an armada to Peter’s eyes. Tony snagged two drinks off of a serving tray and pressed one into Peter’s hand.

                “Ah, Mr. Stroud. Somehow you never miss an opportunity to drink my booze and eat my food.” Tony clapped the elderly gentleman on the back with an overlarge smile.

                “Nor do I intend to. Excellent wine selection this evening.”

                “You’ll have to thank JARVIS for that, I’m afraid. Peter, this is Jonathan Stroud, owner of several prominent nightclubs in New York and Los Vegas.” Mr. Stroud shook Peter’s hand with a polite smile.

                “Unfortunately for you Mr. Stroud, Mr. Parker here isn’t much of a partier.” Tony took a deep sip from his glass.

                “I can’t say I’ve ever been to a nightclub outside of work,” said Peter. Stroud gave him a mock serious look.

                “Yes, you’ll have to be careful of Mr. Stark. He’ll drag you to all sorts of places if you let him.”

                Peter was ready to correct him when Tony shuffled him along toward the stage. Tony bounded up onto it, leaving Peter off in the wings.

                According to Peter’s watch, it was an hour and forty-five minutes from the time they entered to the time he and Tony were back in the limo. But aside from a brief conversation about biomechanics and the minute and a half it took for Tony to publicly tear Justin Hammer a new one, the event seemed agonizingly long. He could feel himself sink into the leather seat as the door slammed shut.

                “Phase one: complete.” Tony patted Peter’s knee before relaxing into the seat and resting his head against the glass.


	11. Chapter 11

                By the time they reached the hotel Peter was too tired to care whether it was two stars or seven. The view of the Los Angeles skyline was breath-taking from the windows, but somehow the field of fairy lights seemed less important with the knowledge that it wasn’t New York.

                He’d promised to meet Aunt May for a birthday dinner tomorrow night and he was looking forward to homemade spaghetti, garlic bread and Aunt May’s famous cherry pie. Kicking his shoes off, Peter flopped into the lavish hotel bed, daydreaming about tomorrow.

                Uncle Ben had protested when Aunt May offered to make all of Peter’s favorites for his birthday.

                “Oh May. You’ve got a busy day tomorrow. How about I pick up a pizza and some cake on the way back from work? Peter loves pizza. Don’t you?” Peter gave his uncle a scraggy-toothed grin. Last week Flash Thompson had knocked him into the water fountain at school and he’d lost one of his front teeth. He hadn’t mentioned it to his aunt or uncle, just stuffed the tooth under his pillow. By morning it was replaced with fifty cents and a note from the tooth fairy.

                “It’s really no trouble, Ben. Besides, it’s the least I can do after Peter’s last report card. All A’s again?” Peter threw a tiny fist in the air in celebration.

                “Spaghetti!” He shouted with all the enthusiasm of a 2nd grader. Uncle Ben laughed.

                “And how about my famous cherry pie for desert?” Aunt May was rummaging through the cupboards, checking the flour and sugar to figure out what all she’d need from the store.

                “Can I help make it this time?” Aunt May turned and stooped to pick Peter up. He wrapped himself around her and held on like a koala.

                “Of course you can, my sweet little boy. I’ll make the crusts and you make the filling. Do you think you can handle the measurements?”

                “Of course! We studied measurements in science this year. I know my cups and tablespoons…”

                “And fractions,” Ben hummed, impressed.

                Peter was lost in the memory when he heard the door next to his open. The sound jarred him awake and he crept toward the door. Halfway down the hall, Tony was leaving quickly with his briefcase.

                For a moment, Peter argued with himself. Tony wasn’t a person for sneaking around, so if he was leaving at… Peter checked the time. Jesus! Three in the morning… There had to be a good reason. Peter had learned his lesson the hard way once or twice about leaving his suit at home, so he dug his suit out from the bottom of his duffle bag and quickly changed. He flicked the latch to the hotel window open (another habit he’d learned over time) and went back to his bag. Once he’d snapped the webshooters in place on his wrists under his sleeves, he headed toward the door.

                After a careful peek through the doorway, Peter leapt up onto the ceiling and crawled down the hallway the way he’d seen Tony headed. The elevator was headed to the ground floor so Peter headed toward the emergency stairwell. He rappelled down six stories to ground level and waited, out of sight of the window in the door until he saw Tony exit the elevator. Tony cast a quick look toward the stairwell before continuing through the lobby.

                Peter avoided the lobby and hotel staff by ducking out the employee exit. Peter crawled around the side of the hotel toward the front, carefully keeping himself shadowed. By the time he spotted Tony, out of sight of the floodlights illuminating the face of the hotel, he could see that the suitcase had started to assemble itself into Tony’s Iron Man suit.

               _Why would he leave without telling me? The obvious answer would be that Tony doesn’t want me to know. But what doesn’t he want me to know?_ Peter swallowed down the sickness in his stomach and by the time his first line made contact with the building next door, he was already airborne.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a big booty chapter.
> 
> Feedback, as always, is super welcome.

                Tony flew low, carefully monitoring the suit’s altitude and staying under the skyline. He was flying based on a projection of his surroundings displayed in his helmet that he’d developed initially for smart cars. In an effort to avoid aerial detection he’d disabled all unnecessary lights and kept repulsors below fifteen percent. None of this would help if Fury or SHIELD were already looking for him, but he was willing to try regardless.

                He flew West from the city’s center and before long he was weaving between the San Monica Mountains. When the suit said he was within fifteen miles of the target, he raised electromagnetic shields and dropped a short-range EMP which would blackout technology in a twenty mile radius from his current location. Unfortunately the range would include Malibu and one of Tony’s own homes, but based on the information Tony had stolen from SHIELD databases, he would have also been within range of the base. Tony estimated that he had twenty minutes once he looped security protocols to wipe the databases and get out before he was discovered.

                Tony took a fortifying breath and upped his propulsors, preparing to strike. Suddenly his proximity alert was ringing and the suit informed him that he had something on his left boot. Light shone from his hand before the repulse fried whatever had caught his suit. He could see someone falling before another line stuck to the stomach of his suit. They swung out of the range of his left hand, coating it with a thick web.

                “TONY!” Peter shouted above the wind. The repulsor hummed ominously over his head.

                “Peter?” The suit’s voice was slightly more tinny that Tony’s.

                “Jesus Tony. Was that an EMP?” Peter had scurried up the line on the stomach of Tony’s suit and was crouched hanging upside down off of him. Peter looked into the suit’s faceplate as it opened.

                “Peter? What the hell are you doing here?” Tony checked the suit’s countdown and discovered he only had another sixteen minutes to go. “I’m wiping a SHIELD database. I’ve got less than sixteen minutes. Just wait here and I’ll explain later.” Tony fired a blast from his hand to dislodge the webbing.

                “I’m coming with you,” Peter promised in a way that left no room for argument. “I’ll help you, but you need a damn good explanation when it’s over. Let’s go.” Peter pressed his fingertips to the shoulders of the suit to hang on when Tony used a burst of energy to launch them toward the SHIELD base.

                The building was relatively small and nestled in the valley between two large mountains. The top was covered with a thin material which was printed with the valley’s original appearance and reflected radio readings. The base itself was a hangar, with thick, slate-colored reinforced concrete walls. Peter allowed himself to drop off and swung himself onto the side of the building. With a repulsor blast, Tony blew a hole in the wall beside him and Peter crawled into the hole with Tony flying in after.

                The building was almost refrigerator cold, and instantly Peter could see his breath puffing out of his mask.

                “This has to look like a smash and grab. Knock out the computers on the west wall while I upload a virus which will wipe out most of SHIELD’s metahuman records.”

                Peter used the momentum of his swing toward the west wall and kicked his heels into the nearest terminal. Smoke rose from the tower and the lights from the next two in line went dark. He tore the next one from the wall and let it fall to the ground.

                “Metahuman records?” Peter stopped to watch Tony as the finger piece of his glove stretched out and inserted itself into a port. Tony was rapidly tapping buttons on a display in his arm.

                “Five more minutes. The program’s going to take three to run and then we need to haul ass out of here. Fury will have a team headed our way from the east. We drop down and lay low in the mountains as they pass. If they haven’t figured out it’s me by then we’ll be able to leave while they’re combing the facility.” Tony opened his faceplate and looked at Peter who was perched on the wall.

                “Why did you follow me? You could have left when you knew what I was doing.”

                “I guess I figured you must have a good reason for doing this. I followed my gut and my gut said to trust you on this one.” Peter crawled head first down the wall and stood beside Tony.

                “Tony… Are you doing this to protect me?” Tony kept his eyes focused on his projection, watching the progress bar.

                “I’m doing this to buy us some more time. Fury will probably tear me a new one when he hears about the breach, but he’ll have to cover it up.” The loading bar hit one hundred percent and the projection closed. “Grab on. We’ve got two minutes to get out of the range of the initial sweep.” With Peter crouched against the back of his suit they took off into the mountains.

                They touched down under an outcrop of rock and quickly ducked under.

                “We need to wait here while they do flyovers. Twenty minutes until they finish the first search.” Tony’s faceplate lifted and Peter could see he was sweating. His hair was still slicked back from the conference that afternoon and deep under eye circles confirmed that Tony hadn’t gotten any sleep. Tony had the beginnings of stubble around his signature goatee, and the sight of it somehow humanized him even further. Peter pulled off his own mask and allowed himself a few deep breaths. He laughed at a sudden realization.

                “An undercover mission. That’s what you told me the conference would be.” Peter nudged Tony with a shoulder still laughing.

                “I hadn’t counted on you coming with me, but I’m grateful you did. You have quite the gift for smashing things.” Tony rubbed his smiling face with a gauntlet.

                “I’m not wrong though. All of this. It doesn’t benefit you. This is about me.” Peter could feel the adrenaline still pounding in his chest.

                “Let’s just say, I’ve become… invested in you.” Tony turned to look at Peter, studying his warm brown eyes. He reached out a hand to touch Peter’s shoulder but Peter took a step toward him. This close, Tony could smell the warm scent the hotel shampoo Peter had washed with as well as the subtler masculine scent of his skin. In the hidden outcrop, Peter could feel the heat radiating off of Tony’s suit.

                “Tony, I—“

                Before Peter could finish, Tony had grabbed him and pulled him close. His lips were covered in the surprisingly soft heat of Tony’s. The hand around his waist was warm metal and he felt himself lean against it. Before he could pull back, Tony’s other gauntlet had cupped his chin and pulled him close. It was something he’d never allowed himself to consider. Peter knew that he was attracted to Tony. Aside from being unreasonably handsome, Peter had spent years thinking about Tony’s mind. He’d studied everything Tony had ever published and more that he hadn’t with the help of Richard Reed. Tony was brilliant. He was an extraordinary hero. Peter’s hands wove into Tony’s thick hair and he moaned softly at the embrace.

                Peter gripped the shoulder of the suit, accidentally warping the shoulder piece slightly with his strength. Tony moaned loudly at the metallic sound, using the suit to force Peter back against the wall.

                “God, Tony…” Peter sighed, breath hitching slightly as Tony pressed an armored leg between his. He ground down on the hard, slick surface, grateful when Tony detached one of his gauntlets. It hit the ground with a deep thud.

                Using his free hand, Tony rubbed the skin under the shirt of Peter’s uniform, feeling the ridge of tight, lithe muscles. Peter arched back to allow Tony to tug the shirt up further until he was brushing against Peter’s ribs. With gentle fingertips he felt each ridge of bone, teasing his way up to Peter’s chest. Peter bucked against him when he finally dragged his thumb lightly over a pert nipple.

                “God, Peter,” Tony devoured Peter with a kiss. “There won’t be enough time for what I want to do to you. We’ve got… two minutes until we have to go.” Tony hummed and pushed forward, running his tongue against Peter’s lower lip.

                “If-If you’re serious…”

                “Tony…”

                “Back at the hotel. Meet me at my room.” Tony scrambled for his gauntlet, allowing it to mechanically mold itself to his skin. With his faceplate down and Peter’s mask recovered, they sped back to the hotel.

                Once they’d returned to the city limits, Peter threw out a web and swung off of Tony’s back. Adrenaline and arousal (which had become increasingly similar since Peter donned his costume) fought for control of his body and he gave it freely. From line to line he swung his body, letting his stomach clench and drop with a second or two of free fall. Tony beat Peter back to the hotel by a couple minutes, cutting a clean line through the sky.

                Peter used his barbed fingertips to grip the pane of his window and slid it open. Fortunately his window had been on the back side of the hotel so he’d avoided unnecessary attention. New York may be the city that never sleeps, but L.A. would give it a run for its money.

                Back in his room, Peter pulled his mask off and stuffed it back into the bottom of his duffel. Once the rest of his costume had joined it, Peter pulled a soft T-shirt over his head and his sleep pants from earlier up over his hips. His hair was matted from being stuffed under the mask so he ran his fingers through it several times to make it look more presentable.

                Peter understood that Tony had given him this time so that he could back out gracefully had he changed his mind, but standing in his room for the night on the other side of the continental US (not to mention into the act of domestic terrorism and an exciting new career path), Peter was more than certain that this was what he wanted. Whatever he had with Tony—comraderie, friendship, admiration—it was easy in a way Peter had never experienced in a relationship.

                Barefoot and only a little self-conscious, he allowed the adrenaline and residual confidence of the webslinger to force Peter’s hand. A couple seconds after he’d knocked, the door swung wide and Tony looked at him a little wide-eyed. The suit had been carefully tucked away, and Tony looked soft and warm in comfortable pants and a wrinkled old Black Sabbath T-shirt. Taking a step back, he motioned for Peter to come in.

                “I didn’t expect you to come.” Tony’s tone was light, but there was a breathiness to it. He stood and watched Peter, hands opening and closing slowly at his sides. Peter sighed.

                “Did you want me to change my mind?” Peter stepped forward into Tony’s space, smelling the warm smokey hint of his skin. Peter was tall, almost as tall as Tony, but he still had to look up into Tony’s eyes. The man’s body was stiff but he didn’t step backward or shrink from eye contact. He rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder in a gesture which could in other circumstances be fraternal.

                “Peter,” he sighed, letting his fingers brush against the small hairs at the base of Peter’s skull. “I don’t want you to… regret…” Lightly Peter brushed Tony’s hand from his hair and leaned forward. Pressing up slightly onto his toes, he pressed his lips to Tony’s, softer and sweeter than earlier. The gesture was chaste, almost reassuring, and Tony’s fingers mapped the back of his head, pulling him in.

                Tony slid his tongue across Peter’s lips and Peter let his mouth open to it. Tony dipped down to meet him and soon he was pressing their lips together openmouthed as his tongue slid across Peter. Peter wasn’t inexperienced, but Tony’s pressing fingers behind his head and slick tongue were searingly hot. The way he kissed was wet and demanding and a purely sexual act. Peter groaned, gripping Tony’s shirt collar with two fists and urging him closer.

                Tony guided him back a couple steps without stopping his assault until the backs of Peter’s knees met mattress. He allowed Peter to break the kiss and fold until he was sitting and staring up at Tony with flushed cheeks and red glossy lips. He licked his lips and Tony watched his tongue dip out with the same intense interest he had in his workshop. It was erotic for Peter, seeing that kind of attention on Tony’s rapt face.

                Pressing toward him, Tony straddled Peter’s legs, his knees causing the mattress to dip. His stomach pressed against Peter’s as his lips met Peter’s again in another heated kiss. Tony was uninhibited, pressing his erection down so that it was hard against Peter’s. He let his hips roll against Peter’s, all the while running his fingers through Peter’s hair. Tony was taking him apart, dissecting him carefully with practices motions. It was a whirlwind of sensation and Peter groaned.

                “Lay back,” Tony commanded with a sudden push to the center of Peter’s chest. He let himself fall into the bed, chest heaving. Tony gave him a moment to scoot back into the mattress before climbing back over him. “God…” Tony sighed against Peter’s lips allowing their foreheads to bump.

                “Peter is fine,” Peter huffed, his voice deeper than he expected. Tony’s laugh was warm. His hands slipped under Peter’s shirt.

                “I thought,” Tony breathed into Peter’s lips and Peter caught his for a quick kiss. “I thought the spandex was stupid at first.”

                Peter was taken by the non sequitur. “Okay?”

                “Knowing you and then seeing you in skintight spandex, wow.”

                “Not to mention the flexibility…” Peter supplied jokingly and Tony huffed.  “I’m convinced your powers have a lot of kinky potential.”

                “Are we talking, or…?” Peter’s smirk was cut off as Tony leaned in and scraped his teeth against the sensitive skin of his neck. Peter’s back arched against the soft scape and Tony nipped him.

                “Hnn,” Peter sighed, running his hands through Tony’s hair as Tony bit his neck again a little harder.

                “Sensitive,” he breathed into Peter’s neck, his breath leaving a damp spot against his skin which tickled every time Tony inhaled against it. He gripped Tony’s hair, tugging hair enough that Tony nipped him again.

                “Stop that!” Peter laughed, jostling Tony with a hand on his cheek. Tony just leaned up and studied him with bright, blown eyes.

                “Can I suck you?” Tony had licked his lips before saying it and Peter struggled to breathe for a second. He stared up at Tony, surprised until Tony shrugged and leaned in to kiss him again.

                “Tony. Tony that… That’s basically half of my adult fantasies.” Tony just laughed, moving down to dip his fingers under the loose spandex of his pants.

                “You didn’t strike me as a fan.” He nipped at the inside of Peter’s thigh who jerked.

                “I--” Peter continued as Tony reached inside his pants to pull him out. “Your work… My uncle got me a poster when I was twelve.” Peter was burying his face with his arms and Tony could see the salmon pink tips of his ears. Tony was panting hot breaths onto the sensitive tip and Peter tug his heels into the sheets.

                “And you used to jack off to it?” Peter could practically feel Tony’s smirk as his tongue traced a searing stripe up the side.

                “G-God,” Peter could feel the heat in his cheeks and tried to bury his face a little more under his arms.

                “Usually people are disappointed by the real thing.” he popped the tip between his lips, loud enough the Peter could hear it and Peter’s body jerked.

                “’s better Tony. So much better. You’re so…” Tony leaned in, letting the thick heat slip back into his mouth to bump against his throat. “Nngg…” Tony dug his fingertips into the tight muscle of Peter’s leg, feeling it twitch. With a hum he set to work, bobbing his head while keeping his lips a tight ring. He pulled up, feeling the soft flat head with his tongue before pressing back down. Peter was shaking beneath him, panting. Wanting to tease the younger man further, he pulled off with a noisy pop and watched Peter’s erection twitch. Brushing his nose against the soft hairs of Peter’s inner thigh, he ran his tongue flat against the soft loose skin of Peter’s balls.

                “Tony!” Peter uncovered his face and stared down surprised in time to see Tony suck one into his mouth with a pop. He stared up at Peter’s shocked expression and his blush which ran down to his chest. The wet weight of Peter’s erection brushed his cheek and he gripped it in a tight fist. Peter was twitching beneath him, a little overwhelmed by the time Tony had sucked his length back into his mouth. Letting the heavy length press against his tongue, he swallowed down until Peter’s length was pressing hard against the back of his throat. With his hand wrapped tight around the final few inches, he sucked hard, flicking his tongue against the thick vein running along the bottom. Peter reached for him, cupping his cheek with his pinky feeling the edge of Tony’s lips as they slid against him.

                “T-Tony! I’m—“ using the hand on Tony’s cheek he nudged Tony back lightly but Tony just swallowed him down, pressing the tip back as far as he could. “Nnggaah,” Peter shook beneath him, shooting hot bursts of cum down his throat.  “You…” he huffed between pants, “you just…” Tony dipped his tongue lightly into the tip to catch the last bead and he swallowed again, tasting the bitter warmth coating his throat. Peter stared down at him, a little shocked.

                “You didn’t have to…” Tony swallowed hard and watched Peter’s eyes follow the movement of his adam’s apple. “Wow.” Finally relaxing a little, Peter’s head his the pillow. “Wow,” he repeated, feeling his penis still twitching as he grew soft. Tony just climbed up over him, peppering soft kisses against his neck and cheeks. Peter sat up to look at him, hair sticking up in several places.

                “Tony…” he gripped Tony’s cheek and pulled him close, slipping his tongue into Tony’s mouth to trace the taste of himself. “Would you mind if…” Peter’s pupils were blown and he breathed softly against Tony’s lips.

                “You don’t have to.” Taking that as a yes, Peter forcefully flipped Tony onto his back forcing the air out of his lungs. He laughed. Peter climbed on top of him, tugging up the edge of his shirt until Tony raised his arms. Tony was watching him carefully now, most of the humor gone from his face as he watched Peter’s eyes fall on the arc reactor. The casing jutted out of his chest about a quarter of an inch and Peter traced the mottled scarring with a surprisingly light brush of his fingertip. His face was illuminated in the glow and Tony watched as Peter brushed the edge of it as gently as he could.

                “I had to replace a lot of it after the palladium poisoning started. The scarring didn’t used to be so bad.” Peter pressed his fingertips to the front of the casing while Tony gripped the sheets underneath him.

                “The arc reactor,” he breathed, closing his eyes for a second and feeling the magnetic hum on hypersensitive microscopic barbs. “It vibrates.” Tony looked up at him a little surprised.

                “You can feel it?” Peter nodded, brushing the small spines on his fingertips against the skin of Tony’s chest. Tony could barely feel the tingly scrape. Tony grabbed his hand, running his fingertips along Peter’s and feeling them scratch a little more against him with each brush until they gripped his skin and stuck.

                “How much can you control them?”

                “A bit. They extend when I push them against something like a wall or something like that. They also respond to emotions somewhat.” Peter touched the arc reactor with his other hand as Tony ran the edge of his nail across the barbs of his other fingers.

                “Does it hurt?” Tony looked at Peter who was still staring transfixed at the reactor.

                “Only if you take it out.” Peter looked at him surprised, pulling his hand back like he’d been shocked. “I’ve read about it Tony. About what happened. I’m sorry. It’s...” Peter rested his hand against Tony’s neck and seemed to wrestle with words for a moment. “Maybe this is weird, but, I love it. Half the reason I wanted to be a scientist was because of what I read about it working with Reed. Before I was,” Peter petered off, giving Tony an embarrassed smile. “I was going to be a journalist. I used to, ah,” he turned his face down and Tony studied his long lashes. “I took pictures of Spider-Man. For the Daily Bugle.” 

                Tony let out a sharp bark of laughter and Peter fought the urge to smother him just a little bit with a pillow. “For Jameson!?” Tony was shaking now. “I knew you… Somehow I didn’t put that together. Hey, did you take that one—“

                “No,” Peter muttered, covering his face with his hands. “What did they call it? I bought ten copies of that edition. _Spider-Man Flashes Queens_ or something.”

                “Costumed freak,” Peter mumbled, moving down to bite Tony’s hip. “That sucks. I’ve got some good ones too, if you want to see. Pepper frames her favorites.” Peter huffed, biting Tony’s hip a little harder. “Ow!” Peter laughed, kneeling between Tony’s legs. He rubbed Tony’s thighs, tugging his sleep pants further down his hips.

                “He kind of fired me a while ago,” Peter laughs a little. “He fired Spider-Man.” Tony started shaking again beneath him and Peter pulled his pants the rest of the way off, watching Tony’s erection pop out. Tony was still hard, swollen and leaking a little at the tip. Tony leaned up on an elbow, watching Peter as he tugged Tony’s pants the rest of the way off until he was laying naked on the bed. Still dressed, Peter crawled between his legs, pulling his ankles up to rest on his shoulders.

                “Hey,” Tony wasn’t laughing, and he waited until Peter was looking at him. “You really don’t have to.” Peter gave him a funny look.

                “Are you kidding me?” He leaned forward, head cradled between Tony’s thighs and poked the bead of precum with the tip of his tongue. Swallowing the head into his mouth, he hiked Tony’s legs up until the backs of his knees were resting on his narrow shoulders. Tony sighed beneath him, propping his head up enough to watch Peter work between his thighs.

                Like everything in Peter’s life, he approached sex with a kind of focused determination. He wasn’t as skilled or as coordinated with his tongue as Tony, but he swallowed enthusiastically, humming softly when Tony pressed against the back of his throat. Bobbing his head, he let his mouth and throat squeeze around Tony, doing most of the work as the tip of his nose brushed Tony’s coarse pubic hairs. Tony’s hands were in his hair, flexing and relaxing while loose enough to let Peter’s head move in any direction.

                “P-Peter,” Tony groaned above him and Peter looked up without stopping. “God. You’re…” He groaned and Peter swallowed around him a little tighter. “You don’t… have.. gag reflex,” Tony was cupping his cheeks now and Peter watched Tony from between his thighs. Eyes bright, he pressed down until Tony was almost breaching the back of his throat and Tony shook, trying not to jerk into Peter’s mouth.

                “ _Je_ sus.” Peter could feel Tony’s erection jerk against his throat and he pulled up letting his tongue trace around the tip. Tony was grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer with the slightest tug until Peter was sucking him more quickly. “Peter…” Tony breathed his name, “Peter, I’m—“

                Peter pulled back, fisting Tony’s wet erection and tugging him with quick jerks. Tony arched and Peter watched Tony’s rapt expression as thick cords painted his lips and cheeks. When Tony had finished, Peter ran a thumb along his bottom lip, catching a little bit and sucking it into his mouth. Tony stared at him openly gaping.

                “You… You’re dangerous.” he muttered darkly. “Who the hell taught you _that_?” Peter headed to the bathroom and rinsed his face before coming back to lie next to Tony. He flopped down onto the bed and Tony leaned up on an elbow, studying him.

                “No seriously,” Tony persisted, leaning over Peter who gave him a side-eyed smirk. “That’s a story I’d like to hear.”

                Peter fluffed the pillow under him, turning on his side to look at Tony who was naked and hounding him with his eyes. “I had a boyfriend. A while ago,” Peter started.

                “Not surprised. Go on.”

                “He like to… He liked to see.” Peter’s cheeks were flushed pink and a little damp still from the sink. Tony nodded with an impressed frown. “I used to,” Peter bit his lip, smiling a little. “I used to wear glasses.” Tony’s head his the pillow.

                “ _God. GODD,_ ” he groaned. He ran a hand over his face. “That’s it. I don’t want to tell you what just got bumped off, but that just hit my bucket list. Do you—“ Tony pressed his fist to his mouth. “Tell me you still have them.” Peter shrugged and Tony sighed dramatically.

                “I didn’t mean for this… Didn’t mean to take advantage of you.” Peter elbowed him. “I was on my best behavior, even when you were… with the sock thing…” _Sock thing?_ Peter just listened.

                “I know.” He said after a couple moments. “If anything, I’m probably taking advantage of you.” Peter didn’t look at Tony as he said it. “I’m not sorry or anything.”

                “I don’t want…” Tony started and Peter turned over on his side to look at Tony who seemed more vulnerable now naked beside him.

                “Wait. Tony,” Peter placed his hand flat on Tony’s chest to ground them together. “Whatever we have. Whatever this is. This is what I want. Can we just… not complicate it?” There was a moment of heavy silence and Peter started to draw his hand back when Tony caught his wrist.

                “That’s… You’re amazing,” leaned over him, fingertips brushing Peter’s hair back behind his ear. “Do you mind if I?”

                “I’d be pretty upset at this point if you didn’t.” Tony leaned over and kissed Peter softly and more chaste than he had before.


	13. Chapter 13

                “…anks… he…..ip…”  The door shuts and Peter can smell coffee and bacon.  He blinks his eyes open, rolling over onto his side.  He watches blearily as Tony walks across the room with a tray.  The aroma of bacon bypasses his nose almost entirely and sets up camp in his stomach which gurgles.  Tony laughs, grabbing a coffee off the tray and pulling the covers off several dishes.

                “Come on, Peter.  It’s been, what,” Tony stretches out his wrist so that his sleeve rides up and checks his armband.  “Five hours?  I suppose we were up late...”  Tony pushes several dishes across the table toward the other chair.

                Peter grumbles a little, wrapping the sheets around himself before rolling himself out of bed.  Tony watches him over the rim of his mug as Peter shuffles over to the table.  His face is soft and his hair is sticking up in several places and the pillow has left soft creases on one of Peter’s cheeks.  He plops down into the chair across from Tony and studies the food.  He can see the bacon which had dragged him out of bed, and accompanying it are scrambled eggs and a bowl of cut fruit.  Peter grabs a piece of cantaloupe between his fingers and pops it into his mouth.  It’s amazingly fresh, and the sweet pop of fruit in his mouth pulls him further into the waking world. 

                Peter eats while Tony pretends not to watch him over the tablet he has balanced on one knee.  Tony steals a piece of bacon which is teetering on the edge of Peter’s plate and Peter grins at him.  Peter is surprisingly gentle like this, missing his usual paranoid energy and Tony’s expression softens as he watches Peter’s tongue flick out to clean the salt from the bacon off his thumb. 

                “What are you so happy about?”  Tony asks between sips of coffee.  Peter looks up surprised, smile dropping a little off his face.

                “What?” 

                “You’re smiling at your food, Peter.  I’m starting to think I don’t feed you enough.” 

                “No,” Peter’s shaking his head a little absentmindedly.  “It’s not that.  It’s just… I haven’t really sat down and eaten breakfast with anyone since I moved out of Aunt May’s.”  Peter reaches for his fork and starts cutting his eggs, no longer looking at Tony.

                _Huh._ Tony makes a mental note to try to spend more mealtimes with Peter.  Peter seemed to have a lot of positive associations tied to food.

                “Did your Aunt May like to cook?” asked Tony.  Peter shot him a funny look, eggs halfway to his mouth.

                “Yeah, sometimes.  Why?”

                Tony just shrugs.  “Just wondering.  Eat up, we’ve got to get rolling.”

                The flight back is silent and companionable.  Peter dozes off a little as Tony works and when his head falls and rests on Tony’s shoulder, Tony doesn’t move him.

 

                That evening Tony is working in his private lab when JARVIS’ voice calls out: _AUTHORIZATION: STEVEN ROGERS._ With a sigh Tony signals JARVIS to silence the music with a flick of his fingers.  Cap looks a little tense when he walks in, looking around at the deconstructed armor and holograms before finding Tony.

                “To what to I owe the pleasure?”  Tony flicks the holograms away from where they are floating between them. 

                “Tony.  I was hoping that we could talk.”  Steve finds a stool on the other side of the lab and carries (not drags, to Tony’s annoyance) it over to sit next to Tony. 

                “And we’re halfway there already,” Tony smiles tightly, pulling off heavy gloves with an interwoven nanomesh to protect his fingers from getting pinched while he worked over the suit’s major joints. 

                “I respect you, Tony.  And I wanted to give you a little heads up.”  Steve is calm and professional in the way he says it and Tony feels a little sick.

                “Widow and I were in San Monica.  Fury was monitoring you when you hit SHIELD servers.”  Tony shrugged with one shoulder. 

                “He got the excuse he needed.”  Tony was reasonably certain that he’d destroyed or corrupted at least a half to two thirds of the metahuman records, regardless of Fury’s monitoring.  If nothing else that would shine some seriously doubts on SHIELD’s ability to safeguard that kind of information.

                “You were with Spider-Man.”  Again Tony shrugged.

                “The kid’s good muscle.  I hadn’t intended on him following me, but it worked out fine.” 

                Steve nodded, running his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture.  “What I’m trying to say… I’m worried.  Spider-Man… _Peter_ ,” Cap made a point of using first names when possible, and Tony knew for a fact that SHIELD  had an extensive file on Peter.  “He’s just a kid, Tony.”  Tony closed his eyes and sighed.  “He’s your employee now.  Any relationship you have with him beyond that is a breach of employee ethics.”

                “And he’s another man, right Cap?” asked Tony.  Cap gritted his teeth.  For whatever reason, Tony liked to dig his fingers in whenever they spoke and more often than not Cap found himself having to use some of the techniques he’d learned from Banner.

                “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”  Cap waited until Tony was looking him in the eye again.  “I’m just saying, you need to think about the situation you’re putting Peter in.  If you do… decide to move on…  I just want you to think it through.  For his sake.”

                Tony shoved back his chair and scowled at Cap.  “I have thought this through, okay?  And you’re right.  Peter’s not just some girl that I shack up with for a couple days.  Maybe if you stopped thinking of him as some dumb kid you might understand a little better.  He’s twenty-two, Cap.  You were up to your tits in Nazis at that age, maybe he can figure out what he wants for himself.”

                “Fury still wants to debrief him.”  Cap is still watching Tony.  He had anticipated Tony shutting him down or shrugging him off, but Tony had held his position and shown a surprising protectiveness toward Peter. 

                “I’ll speak with Fury.”  Tony’s not an idiot.  He knows that Fury want to see what Tony sees in Peter and if he does he’ll try to recruit him.  Peter’s a really, unbelievably smart guy, but Fury knows what buttons to push.  He has to see the asset Peter could be and maybe Tony’s protecting him, but maybe Tony’s also not willing to share.

                Tony’s on the helicarrier three hours later.


	14. Chapter 14

                When he returns JARVIS informs him that Peter is up late, still working in the lab.  Peter isn’t wearing his mask anymore in the lab so when JARVIS announces _AUTHORIZATION: TONY STARK_ , Tony can see Peter look up at him and smile.

                Peter’s surrounded with stacks of paper, a lot of which are torn out of notebooks.  Peter grabs the one in front of him and wads it up, tossing it in a perfect arc across the room and into the trash beside Tony.

                “ _Show off,”_ Tony muttered, walking over the stand behind Peter.  “What are you working on?”

                Peter rearranges his projections and Tony takes no small delight in how quickly Peter learned his software.  Peter reorders them until Tony can see the schematics of some kind of interdimensional transport on top.  

                “Johnny Flames sent it to me.  He… uh.  Wants to race it.  He asked if I could make it any faster.”

                “Johnny Flames?”  Tony knows the name.  How could he not?  He looks at Peter a little surprised.  _“Johnny Flames?”_ Peter bites his bottom lip in a smile.

                “What, I can’t have friends?”  He swivels around on his stool until he’s facing Tony.

                “Of course you can have friends.  I just didn’t know you made a habit of hanging out with celebrities.” 

                Peter rolled his eyes as Tony looked down at him a little smug. 

                “Would you be jealous if I said we dated for a while?”  Peter reached out and grabbed Tony’s hand.

                “Honestly?  No,” Tony replied as Peter stood.  Standing beside his stool he was much closer to Tony now.

                “Good.”  Peter hummed, looking up at Tony through his eyelashes and Tony swallowed.  Tony’s hands slid across his sides until they were linked behind Peter’s back.  “I can’t help but feel,” Peter spoke softly, each breath dancing on Tony’s chin.  “Like maybe you came here for something in particular…”  Tony was looking down at him, and they studied each other like that for a moment.

                “Is that okay?” Tony asked, seriously.

                “Absolutely.” 

                Peter reached up until his hand was cupping Tony’s head behind his ear and he dragged Tony down until their lips touched.   Peter was soft and warm against him, opening greedily when Tony pressed forward.  Peter’s fingers gripped his hair.  With only a smile against Tony’s lips as warning, Peter jumped up gracefully and wrapped his lean legs around Tony’s hips in an iron grip.  Peter rolled up against him, until all of his weight was pressed down into Tony’s hips.  Tony groaned, walking them back into the wall.  With the solid surface of it against his back, Peter slipped a hand up behind him and lifted his weight almost entirely off Tony with his fingertips alone.  Tony let out a soft almost hurt sound.

                “Tony,” Peter breathed, hips pressed down against Tony’s, and Tony found his erection pressed between the muscular cheeks of his ass.  “If you wanted, we could…”

                “ _Yes._ Whatever you’re asking the answer is yes.” 

                Peter watched as Tony flicked his jeans open.  He had to step back to pull Peter’s jeans all the way off, and when Peter’s legs wrapped around him again they were bare.  Tony admired the delicate curves of Peter’s deceptively strong legs with just the softest hint of hair.  He reached between them and grabbed Peter’s erection which was a deep pink and beading at the tip.  He fisted it tightly in his palm, delighted when Peter rubbed down against him as his head tilted back. 

                “Tony…” Peter huffed and Tony gripped Peter’s ass against him.  With one hand, Tony undid the button of his jeans and tugged the fly down.  Gripping himself, he untangled his erection from his boxers and slid it up against Peter’s.  Peter whined when Tony wrapped a strong hand around them both. 

                Tony thrust against him, pushing his hips up as he held himself in place against the wall.  With Peter’s precum spread across them, they were both thrusting into the wet cavern of Tony’s grip.  Peter’s free hand gripped Tony’s shoulders just short of painful.

                “Peter,” Tony breathed, hot puffs across Peter’s face.  Peter leaned down and captured his lips, feeling the soft scratch of Tony’s goatee on the sensitive skin around his mouth.  They were making out like teenagers, and Tony was surprised to find how right that felt.  He pressed himself, rock hard against Peter who sighed a soft moan against Tony’s open mouth. 

                “God…” Peter sighed, eyes slipping shut.  Tony laughed in small soft exhalations.  It was simple and joyful like this, rubbing against Peter as he held himself effortlessly up in Tony’s arms.  Tony released his hips with one hand to bury his hand in Peter’s hair.  He groaned as bright pleasure came rushing toward him.  Peter’s hips were making small abortive movements against his and Peter’s soft whine brought Tony over the edge.  His hand was painted hot and slick in turn by each of them and Tony watched the gently desperate look on Peter’s face as white pleasure blew through him. 

                “T-Tony,” Peter laughed, head dropping back against the wall with a thud.  Tony chuckled, watching the elegant line of Peter’s neck, exposed with his head dropped back.  Tony pressed closer and bit that line before Peter unhooked his legs.  “ _Hey,_ ” Peter complained as Tony ran his tongue across the vulnerable skin.  Tony just hummed, letting their erections slip softly from his grip.  He trailed kisses up until he was nipping at Peter’s chin.  Peter caught his mouth with his own and kissed him as a soft plea. 

                Tony relented, stepping back so that Peter could unhook his leg and stand, back supported against the wall.  His thin t-shirt was tugged up over his hips and Tony could watch as the soft dark hair under his bellybutton dropped down and filled out a little around his softening erection.  Peter’s legs were lean and without a covering of thick jeans, Tony could see the thick cords of muscle visible when Peter wore the suit.  When he looked up at Peter’s face it was flushed almost red.  Tony chuckled softly, reached out to find a paper towel to wipe his hand. 

                “You’re beautiful, Peter.”  Peter, feeling exposed, grabbed his underwear and dragged them up over slightly damp hips. 

                “I’m sure you say that to all the girls,” Peter laughed, trying to ignore Tony as he gripped Peter’s hips from behind.  Pressing his chest against Peter’s back, he brushed his lips feather light against Peter’s neck where he’d nipped moments before. 

                “I mean it.  You’re amazing,” Tony breathed between kisses, slipping his hands around Peter and holding him from behind.  He had a slight height advantage so he had to duck down to catch Peter’s neck.  Peter interlaced his fingers with Tony’s as they slid across his hips.  They breathed in the small human comfort for several moments before Tony dropped a final kiss behind Peter’s ear. 

                “I’m supposed to be on a flight to Beijing,” Tony sighed, grabbing his jeans off the floor.  Peter looked up at Tony and grinned.


	15. Chapter 15

                The following afternoon, Peter is still making minor adjustments to Johnny’s… well, not car… or ship exactly, but it was made by Reed Richards, so it was made for safety first, last, and always.  Peter had been worried about making any suggestions, but the way Peter understood it, if Johnny and Ben wanted to take it on a couple race circuits in space, there was really no one at risk.

                He looks up when he hears JARVIS.  _AUTHORIZATION: STEVEN ROGERS._

                Peter swipes all the papers into a haphazard pile and closes the file a little desperately.  Tugging some of the wrinkles out of his shirt he stood just as Steve walked in.

                “Peter Parker?”  Even the way he said Peter’s name felt a little heroic.

                “Yes?” Peter replied, ready to accept any alternate solutions at this point.  Cap just laughed.

                “At ease soldier.  I came to talk.  Are you free?”  Peter closed out of where he’d been logged in to Tony’s servers and giving a final glance to the pile of papers nodded.

                “Of course.”  Steve looked around the lab.  It wasn’t all that different from Tony’s but where Tony had machines and half-built mechanisms scattered around his workspace, he could see chemicals set out on counters along the back wall in Peter’s.  He noted a thick gray tinted liquid bubbling in a large beaker in the back.  There were several lamps around it radiating heat or UV and several tools hanging off the lip, one of which looked almost like a meat thermometer.

                “Would you mind if we went somewhere?”  Steve waited as Peter wrestled the stack of torn-off notebook pages and printer paper precariously in his arms and walked to the back of the room to stuff them as a single pile into a filing cabinet. 

                “Of course.  Where to?”

 

                Peter had surprised himself by being reluctant at first to ride on the back of a motorcycle with Captain America, but Steve didn’t own a car and he wanted to take Peter out somewhere.  Feeling small and awkward, Peter threw one leg over the back of the bike while Cap held it steady.  Wrapping his arms around Steve had been like hanging on to the side of a fleshy wall and Peter looked around while they drove.  To Peter’s surprise, Steve liked to drive fast, and they were soon weaving between cars.  Peter had never driven a car or a motorcycle before and it was new and interesting to watch the city fly by from street level.  Cap stopped outside the city center, pulling up to a little diner which had gone largely unchanged for the last fifty years.  It was still new to Cap though, and he opened the door for Peter.  With cheeks burning, Peter headed inside. 

                The inside was wood paneled and a little dark.  Most of the seats were empty, but the smell coming from the kitchen was amazing.  An older woman caught eyes with Cap from over the counter and headed around to show them a table.  Cap ordered coffee and Peter ordered some pancakes and milk for a late lunch.  Cap looked at Peter.

                “How are you liking Stark Industries?  I hear Tony made you… Junior Partner?”  Steve watched as Peter’s face lit up as he told Cap about some of the equipment Tony shared with him and his doe-eyed sweetness made Cap a little uncomfortable.  Talking like that, Peter seemed even younger than he was. 

                Cap accepted his coffee and Peter his pancakes and Peter stuffed a big hunk of sweet bread into his mouth.  Cap took his silence as an opportunity and struck.

                “I was hoping we could talk about Tony,” Cap said.  Peter gaped at him a little before choking on his bite of pancake.  He coughed, trying to dislodge the food caught in his windpipe and took a big gulp of milk to recover.  Cap looked at him a little startled and concerned.

                “You okay?” he asked.  Peter just nodded, clearing his throat several times with watery eyes.

                “Yeah,” he scraped, coughing again.  “I’m fine.  What… what about Tony?”  Peter leans back in a subconscious gesture and Cap makes a mental note that Spider-Man is incapable of work as a spy.

                “You two seem to be spending a lot of time together lately,” Cap says, nonchalantly between sips of coffee, and Peter nods cautiously.  Before answering, Peter takes another bite of his pancakes. 

                “He’s a great guy,” Peter replies, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.  Steve nods lightly in agreement.

                “I just want to make sure that you know what you want from him.  And what he’s capable of.”  _And what he’s not,_ Cap adds mentally.  Peter swallows and sets his fork down next to his plate watching Cap a little cautiously.

                “Not that I’m not fanboying it up,” Peter starts, voice not cracking in the slightest, and motioning between the two of them at a table.  “But if you mention birds and or bees I might scream.”  Cap laughs, a little surprised, but Peter’s still cringing a little from the other side of the table.

                “I understand.  Tony really is a great guy,” Steve agrees, steering the conversation back through more stable waters before venturing out again.  “And you seem like a great kid.”  Somehow the words grate a little coming from Cap.

                “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about him,” Cap finished, and Peter nodded a little while he spoke.

                “Honestly, in the most respectful, patriotic way, I don’t really understand how this is any of your business.”  Both Cap and Peter look a little surprised once he’s said it, but Peter doesn’t relent, hands fidgeting together in a nervous gesture.

                “Do you know… what happened?  To my last girlfriend?” Peter asked.  Steve waited, watching the way Peter stared at the table beside his plate. 

                “She was thrown.  Off a bridge.   And that was because of me.  Because someone found out about me.  And I… I _caught_ her.”  Peter’s jaw clenched after he’s said it and Steve can see that he’s grinding his teeth.  “I felt…” Peter started, having to stop again to take a breath before continuing.  “I felt her neck snap in my arms.”  This was something Steve understood, and he looked away, giving Peter a moment. 

                “I had a boyfriend before that.  My best friend in the world.  Spider-Man ruined his life and now every time he sees me he tries to kill me.  He sent me a text last month asking why we stopped hanging out.”  Another familiar feeling for Cap.

                “I’m sorry.”  Peter just shrugged, sending Cap a little half smile. 

                “So Tony… I’m not scared he’ll get tired of me.  It would suck if he didn’t want to spend time with me anymore, but I’ll be okay.  But thank you,” Peter nodded, finally looking at Steve square. 

                “Thank you for speaking with me.  I understand that I may have overstepped my bounds.” 

                “No!  I’m sorry if I—“  Peter stutters, and Cap can see Peter shrink back into himself a little again. 

                “I appreciate it.  Most people get too caught up with the public image and won’t speak to me like a person.  It was a pleasure speaking with you, Peter.”  Cap stood, depositing a several bills on the table. 

                “Yeah, you too.”  Peter took his outstretched hand and shook it before digging into his jeans for his wallet and dropping a handful of crumpled bills as well.  The combination would more than cover their meals and a tip, but Peter couldn’t accept Steve paying his way and Steve wasn’t about to take the money back.  They left it for the waitress and Cap offered Peter a ride back. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

                With Peter tucked away in the tower again, Steve pulled out his phone.  He flipped through a couple contacts before hitting call.  The phone ringed once before it was answered.

                A listening pause.  “I hate to say it, but I think Tony’s right.”  The voice on the other line can be heard, even as Steve holds it two inches away from his ear.  “You know my recommendation.  I say hire him.” 

 

* * *

 

 

                The call comes two days later and as soon as Peter’s tucked the phone back into his pocket he’s looking for Tony. 

                JARVIS, watching Peter peek into a couple rooms calls for Tony who comes and meets him outside his penthouse. 

                “There you are!”  Peter is a little surprised to see him upstairs.  Tony seemed to only enter his penthouse to sleep.  Tony steps past him, opening the door and letting Peter inside.  He pours himself a drink and settles himself onto the couch. 

                “I got a call,” Peter starts.  “From _Fury.”_ Peter looks at Tony who seems unsurprised.  “He offered me a job.” 

                Tony nods, waiting until Peter sits on the couch beside him. 

                “And what do you want to do?”  Tony’s challenging him, and Peter can feel it.  He thinks about working for SHIELD.

                “What would I do?  He was a little vague on that point.” 

                “You’d help people.  Stop the bad guys.  What did you tell him?” Tony asks, and Peter seems a little sheepish. 

                “I told him I wanted to talk with you first,” Peter muttered and Tony beamed.  Fury certainly wouldn’t have appreciated that. 

                “They’d take care of you.  Anything you needed would be taken care of, and that would of course include Aunt May too.”  Tony took a sip of his drink and Peter leaned in.

                “I’m sensing a but…”

“You’d have to travel.  …Honestly, he’d be lucky to have you at any point, and now I think he knows it.  I’d consider it a standing offer until you’re ready to decide.”  Tony stretched his feet out, rubbing them along the thick white carpet of his floor.  His floor, as in, the floor of the building which was his.  The rest of the floors were his as well, but this floor was a little more his than some of the others.  Peter was staring at him. 

                “There’s something you want me to do instead, isn’t there?”  Peter’s watching Tony’s face, and Tony just shrugs. 

                “Well, Jameson had been a big part of the registration movement.  Last night I leveraged a buyout of the Daily Bugle,” Tony looked at Peter serious and Peter gaped at him.

                “Seriously?”

                “You mentioned that you liked photography and I took another look at your work.  You’re good, Peter.  Really good.  And what I’d like to do is work it from a PR angle.  You and a couple other heroes working in New York get the worst of it and draw the most negative attention.  It’s not a permanent solution, but I’d like to focus on helping New York better understand and embrace its heroes.”  Peter blinked, mouth opening but nothing came out.

                “So… I’m thinking…” Tony leaned back, crossing his arms across his stomach.  “Photographer?  Just as a hobby of course.  I’m not letting you off the hook for Stark Industries either, but that position is mostly on paper.  If you want to, you can work freelance like you have been and decide how you want to spend your time.  You’ve got connections as Spider-Man,” Tony said, thinking _a lot_ of connections.  “You can relate to the others without them ever having to know who you are.”

                “Tony, you’re—“

                “No.  _For me._   This is my way of turning petty revenge against Jameson into something useful.  I have a company now, and I’m asking you if you want to help run it.”  Tony can’t help but feel a little miffed that for whatever reason, buying the Daily Bugle seemed like a bigger deal to Peter than making junior partner.  I mean, the Bugle was tearing Spidey a new one every week, but Tony didn’t expect the delighted look Peter gave him.

                Peter thought about it.  The job he’d always wanted with the Bugle without Jameson shorting him every month.  His photography could actually help people, and he wouldn’t even have to sell unflattering shots of his own ass.  Even if things didn’t work out with Tony, he could work at the Bugle.  He could get his own place.  His own place with a sink and a shower, and heating in the winter. 

                “So we’ve got options, Peter.  And if worst comes to worst, you can always give Fury a call.” 

                “Tony… _Thank you.”_

                “Of course,” Tony nodded, pulling out his phone.  “Looks like everyone’s in the tower right now, and you won Cap over pretty hard.  What say we go hang out with the Avengers?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Questions or concerns? As always, I look forward to hearing from you. Beta-ing in any regard is extremely welcome, whether that means parsing a paragraph that you didn't like, or giving broad overarching thoughts. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been keeping up with this story over the last couple years. It's been a long ride. Your comments have meant a lot to me. Thanks for reading!


End file.
